


What Would I Be Without You?

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: Broadchurch, Masters of Sex
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Coma, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, Excessive Drinking, Fever, Fist Fights, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, Loneliness, M/M, Married Life, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Stabbing, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Alec and Bill's lives are upended by a criminal hell-bent on destroying them.
Relationships: Alec Hardy/William Masters
Comments: 126
Kudos: 66





	1. Prologue

The house was dark and looked empty, but he knew they were in there. He'd been watching them for months, observing their comings and goings. He followed them both to work, but mainly focused on the American, the doctor. He was smart, confident, determined. He had such an effect on Hardy, better than his own wife or child ever had. The man shifted in the stolen old car, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Beside him, on the passenger seat, was a camera, a sheathed hunting knife, a small, nondescript bottle, a rag, and a gun still in its black leather holster. He hoped that he'd get to use all of those things, except for the camera. He'd already used that a lot.

He checked the time on the radio clock. It was almost dawn. The two men would be awake soon, getting ready for work. The man reached up and stroked his angled jaw. He couldn't wait to put his plan into action. He started the car again and drove away. He was almost drunk with the idea of finally getting his revenge. He reached the hospital as the sun crested the horizon. He parked far away from the building to remain hidden, but close enough that he could observe the people going in and out of the place. He knew what the doctor's car looked like, new the license plate number, the type of car it was. He even knew where the doctor would park-in his reserved space right near the main entrance.

"Tick tock," the man murmured to himself, his accent rough and broad.

He popped open the glove compartment and removed a thickly padded envelope, easing the flap open. Inside were pictures of Hardy, his co-workers, his ex-wife and his daughter. And his husband. The great William Masters. Some of the pictures he'd taken from a distance in his car, others from high windows or trees. He had pictures of both of their cars, their home. Hell, he had everything he needed to completely wreck Hardy's life.

'Just like he ruined mine,' the man thought with a wicked smile. 

He put the pictures back in the glove compartment and resumed his wait, removing the knife from its sheath and rubbed the flat of the blade along his chin and jawline.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill mumbled slightly as the incessant chirping of his phone alarm pierced into his sleep. He fumbled a hand over to the nightstand and shut it off, wishing he could stay in bed a little longer. As it was, he was laying on his side, his head resting on Alec's outstretched arm, the Scotsman's lithe body pressed against his back. Alec's other arm was wrapped around his waist, his breathing tickling the nape of Bill's neck. The American sighed, relishing in the warmth of his husband's body a little longer before slowly getting out of bed, carefully slipping out from under Alec's arm, wearing his boxers.

"Hmm," Alec whined sleepily. He blindly reached out, grabbing Bill's arm. "Where you going?"

"I have to be at the hospital early today," Bill replied, quietly. He turned around and stroked his love's soft hair. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'fine," Alec slurred. He tugged on Bill's wrist. "Come back to bed."

Bill chuckled, caressing his husband's stubbled cheek. "I wish I could, love, but I can't." He gently eased Alec to let go of his wrist. "Tell you what. Let me shower and get dressed, than I'll come back and lay with you until you go to sleep again, okay?"

"Okay," Alec agreed.

Bill smiled at him and kissed his forehead. He left the room and went across the hall into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and turned on the shower, letting the water get as hot as he could stand it. Bill wished that Alec would join him, but if he did, that would result in them both being late for work. That happened enough as it was. Bill chuckled again and stripped off his underwear, slipping into the shower. The hot water helped wake him up a bit more, but once he got his first cup of coffee, he'd be golden. He washed his body and his hair quickly, rinsed off, then exited the shower, using towels to dry himself off.

He entered the bedroom again and picked out his clothes, stepping into briefs and slacks. Bill could feel Alec's eyes on him as he dressed. He buckled his belt and faced the bed. Alec was indeed watching him, his brown eyes soft and sleepy. The American smiled and laid back down on the bed, still shirtless and barefoot. Alec cuddled against him again, inhaling through his nose as he nuzzled Bill's chest. Bill stroked his hair idly.

"What time do you have to be in?" he asked.

"Not until ten," Alec answered. "What's time now?"

"A little after seven," Bill replied. "I should be home by ten tonight."

"M'gonna hold you to that," Alec said teasingly.

Bill smiled and kept petting his husband's tousled hair. Eventually, Alec's eyes fell closed again and his breathing evened out. Bill kissed him lightly on the mouth and finished getting ready. He went downstairs and brewed up a pot of coffee, pouring some into a travel cup Ellie gave him. He quickly scribbled something down onto a sticky note and stuck it to the fridge, where Alec was sure to see it, than headed out of the house, quietly closing the door behind him. Bill headed toward his car, pulling his keys from his pocket. He lingered a little he opened the driver's side door. For the past couple weeks, he'd been feeling this odd sense of unease, like he was being watched. Alec didn't seem bothered by it, so Bill tried not to think about too much. This morning, though, it was finally gone.

"Maybe I was just being paranoid," he said to himself.

Bill got into the car and headed to the hospital. The sun was glinting along the horizon as he parked in his reserved space near the main entrance. Unaware that he was being watched through a camera by the man in the stolen car across the parking lot. Bill entered the hospital and put his things in the doctor's lounge, donning his white coat and picking up his first patient chart of the day. The man in the stolen car entered the hospital shortly after Bill, and sat down in the waiting area, waiting for the fake name he'd given the nurse earlier that morning to be called. 

He needed to get close to Dr. Masters before his plan went into action. He wanted Bill to know who the man was that was about to wreck his husband's life. After a few minutes, the nurse called out his name and sent him to exam room 107. He sat and waited only a minute before Bill came into the room, holding his chart and shutting the door behind him.

"How can I help you today, Mr..." Bill glanced down at the file in his hand. "Ellison."

The man shifted on the exam table. He wore old, faded clothes that made Bill think he might've been homeless. He had thinning hair and unnervingly bright grey eyes, looking almost like polished quarters. He had a day's growth of stubble on his face, a hooked scar cutting a line through the hair. 

"I took a beating yesterday is all, Doc," Mr. Ellison explained. "Think I might've bruised some ribs or something."

"Well, you were right to come here," Bill said, flipping the file closed. "Sometimes bruised ribs can be just as big a problem as broken ones. I'll take a look and check for internal injures and fractures."

"Thank you," Mr. Ellison said.

Bill turned away to pull on a pair of rubber gloves, not noticing the way the man smirked as he turned his back.


	3. Chapter 3

At half-past eight, Alec's own phone alarm went off. He groaned as he reached over and shut it off, lifting his head from Bill's pillow. He liked it better when he and Bill could wake up and get ready for work together, though that often resulted in both of them being late. Most of the time it was Bill's fault. He was especially fond of making love to Alec in the shower. Though there was one memorable day when Alec had been the instigator in the kitchen. He chuckled at the memory and reluctantly left the bed to go take a shower. He finished quicker than usual and returned to the bedroom, donning his usual attire of slacks, dress shoes, shirt, tie, and a jacket. Alec slapped a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth, then went downstairs into the kitchen. His cellphone rang as he approached the fridge.

"Hello?" he said, bringing the phone to his ear. 

"You're actually up," Miller said, sounding shocked. "Are you going to be on time today too?"

"Bill had to work early today," Alec replied. "He wasn't around to....distract me." 

Miller laughed. Alec did too, noticing the bright sticky note stuck to the fridge door. Written across it in Bill's familiar handwriting was a message: 'Don't forget to eat today-Bill'. Alec snorted, placing the note into his pocket. Early on, when he and Bill had first begun dating, several people, Miller and Daisy among them, had told Bill about Alec's bad habit of not eating, sometimes for days at a time. He'd mostly survived on microwaved tea and stale toast until Bill came along, practically hovering over him while he ate to make sure that he did so. Now, even after a solid year of marriage, Bill still liked to leave notes like that around the house or even at his office, a kind of running joke between them. 

"We've already got a case," Miller told Alec as he made himself some tea and cereal. 

"Who called it in?" he asked.

"Mr. Stanford, from Stanford Auto Shop," Miller answered. "He was working late last night when someone came into the garage, assaulted him, and stole one of the cars he'd restored. They even changed the license plate on the car, so we can't track it until we get more details."

"Did he get a description?" Alec asked.

"A vague one," Miller said. "Said the guy was maybe six feet tall, with a deep voice and blue eyes. He wore a mask and gloves, so no facial recognition and no fingerprints left at the scene."

"Interesting," Alec murmured, sipping his tea. "I'll meet you at the auto shop in ten minutes, yeah?"

"Alright," Miller agreed.

They hung up, and Alec drained the rest of his tea and polished off the cereal, then grabbed his wallet and keys, and left the house. He got into his car and headed to Stanford Auto Shop. He wondered how Bill's day was going so far. Hopefully they'd get to talk later if Bill had some free time between patients. Ten minutes later, Alec arrived outside the auto shop. There were already police cars and an ambulance, the garage area sectioned off with yellow tape. Miller was just getting out of her car as Alec pulled up and parked near the side street. 

"Oh, my God, you're actually on time," she said as Alec exited his car. "Is it the end of days?"

"Very funny, Miller," Alec muttered. "I am capable of being on time to work."

"Yeah, but only when your husband isn't around to 'distract' you," Miller replied, laughter in her voice. "At least your not limping or have any visible hickeys this time."

Alec blushed despite himself and mumbled under his breath as he and Miller walked past the tape and into the garage. There were numbered evidence markers inside: one beside a discarded license plate on the ground, and the others near some very obvious skid marks on the concrete. Clearly, who ever had taken the car had been in a hurry, but patient enough to remove the plate from the car and put another one in its place on the car. Mr. Stanford was sitting on a stack of tires near the back of the garage, dressed in coveralls stained with grease and oil. His left eye was bruised purple, his lower lip swollen, a gash freshly stitched on his forehead.

"Mr. Stanford?" Alec asked as he and Miller approached. "I'm Detective Inspector Hardy and this is my partner, Miller. Is it alright if we ask you some questions about last night?"

"Of course," Mr. Stanford replied. He had a slight lisp due to the swollen lip.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Miller asked. "Or at least what you remember?"

"It just a usual, quiet evening," Mr. Stanford explained. "I was out here working when I heard footsteps outside the door. I thought maybe it was just some kids or something, but then the bloody bastard hit the button outside the door. Scared the living Christ out of me. He burst it and hit me over the head with a wrench he pulled from his pocket. I managed to club him a few times, but he knocked me down. I heard him use a drill to remove the license plate, then he just drove away like a bat out of Hell. I saw his eyes, these bright blue eyes. Cold as fucking ice."

"What can you tell us about the car he stole?" Alec asked.

"It used to be a police car," Mr. Stanford answered. "It had been out of commission for a few years, but a friend of man bought it at an auction. I was restoring it for him. It's been painted completely black, with red stripes on both doors and two blue stripes on the front of it."

"That's a good description," Alec told Miller. "We can alert the public to keep an eye out for it. We don't even have to worry about the license plate." 

"I'll go tell one of the officers," Miller said. "Make sure he spreads the word."

"Alright." Alec nodded to her, and she walked out of the garage. Alec turned back to Mr. Stanford. "How hard do you think you might've hit the suspect?"

"Why does that matter?" Mr. Stanford asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If you managed to hurt him severely enough, he could've gone to the hospital," Alec explained. "My husband is a doctor there. I could ask him if he or any of his colleagues treated him."

Mr. Stanford shrugged his shoulders. "I used to be a boxer in my school days. I suppose I could've broken his ribs, since that I was aiming for. He didn't look like he was in that much pain though."

"Either way, it's still a good idea to call the hospital," Alec said. "Thank you, Mr. Stanford. We'll catch him."

Alec walked out of the garage and went around the corner, pulling his cellphone from his pocket. He located Bill's name in his contact list and selected it. The dial tone rang a few times before Bill finally picked up.

"Shouldn't you be working?" he asked Alec.

"I am," Alec replied. "Mr. Stanford was assaulted and had a car stolen from his shop last night. He said the man wore a mask, but had bright blue eyes, and might've been injured in the scuffle. Did you or anyone else treat someone with blue eyes and suspicious injuries?"

"The only patient I've seen so far was a homeless man with grey eyes and a bruised sternum," Bill answered. "I can ask around, though, see if anyone noticed anything strange."

"Thanks," Alec said. "I appreciate it. See you at home later?"

"Of course," Bill answered, a smile in his voice. "I love you, Hardy."

"I love you too, Masters," Alec responded.

The two men hung up, just as Miller came around the corner. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. 

"You weren't having phone sex again, were you?" 

Alec groaned, his face flushing red as Miller laughed. "You're never letting me live that down are you?"

"Nope," she replied. "Did Bill have anything to say?"

"Nobody with blue eyes thus far," Alec replied. "But he said he'd ask around to see if anyone else saw something."

"Great," Miller said. "Now come on. We have to go question Mr. Stanford's friend, the one who bought the car in the first place."

"Let's go," Alec said. "I'll follow you."

The two left the garage and headed into town. Meanwhile, at the hospital, Bill didn't realize that he had indeed treated the suspect, who was currently removing the grey contact lenses inside the stolen car that he had repainted to throw the police off his trail.


	4. Chapter 4

Bill was true to his word and throughout the day, he asked his colleagues if they had treated anyone with blue eyes or suspicious injuries. So far, nobody had seen anything. The homeless man Bill had treated earlier that morning had seemed a little...off. His injury of just a bruised sternum hadn't seemed strange, but there was something about him. Something familiar. He seemed more interested in asking Bill questions than answering them.

"Are you married, Doctor?" he'd asked when Bill finished his exam.

"Yes, I am," Bill answered, peeling his gloves off. "My husband is detective in Broadchurch. Alec Hardy."

The man, Mr. Ellison, had glint in his eyes when Bill said Alec's name. Lines of distaste showed around his forehead and lips as he tried to suppress a frown. That wasn't the first time Bill had encountered someone who didn't like Alec. Many people still remembered him as 'Shit-face', known for his lack of social skills. Bill had even once gotten into a bar fight because someone had been insulting Alec a little too loudly. That had earned Bill a few cuts and bruises, and a thorough scolding from Alec when he'd returned home holding an ice pack against his left eye.

"Seriously, Masters?" Alec had said. "You going to pick a fight with everyone in this town who hates me?"

"You are my husband," Bill had replied simply. "Isn't it my job to defend you and your honor?"

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself," Alec told him. "I don't need you endangering yourself." His gaze softened a little as he traced the bruise around Bill's eye with a fingertip. "Please don't do that again, Bill. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you had gotten hurt more severely." 

"Have you been married long?" Mr. Ellison asked, jolting Bill back to Earth.

"Only a year," Bill replied. "Are you married?"

"She left me," Mr. Ellison replied. "Took our kids with her." His voice was hard and bitter.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bill replied. He flipped open his prescription pad. "I'm going to write you a scrip for some pain meds. That should help until the bruising fades." He ripped the scrip out of the pad and handed it over.

"Thank you, Dr. Masters," Mr. Ellison said, taking the paper. "I'll be seeing you."

'That sounded like a promise,' Bill thought to himself, watching Mr. Ellison slide off the exam table and leave the room.

After that, Bill's day continued fairly normally. He saw several other patients, two that had strep throat, another that had a broken finger. He helped out in the E.R. later in the afternoon, performed three different surgeries, texting Alec as often as he could. 

'Did you see my note this morning?' he texted in the early evening.

'Yes,' Alec responded instantly. 'I had breakfast this morning and ate lunch with Miller earlier at the office.'

'Good,' Bill replied. 'I'll see you soon. I love you.'

'I love you too,' Alec returned. 

Bill smiled, warmth flooding through his core as he put his phone into his pocket. He saw four more patients as the evening continued, writing two of them prescriptions. Finally, at ten o'clock, Bill's replacement arrived to relieve him. Bill sighed gratefully, handing his remaining charts over. He went back to the doctor's lounge and gathered his things, shooting off a text to Alec, just in case he was still awake.

'I'm on my home, love. See you soon.'

Bill walked out of the hospital, the night air cool, a light breeze blowing around. The parking lot was still fairly crowded, and as Bill pulled his car keys from his pocket and approached his car, he heard someone come up behind him.

"Don't move," a man's voice snarled. "And don't do anything stupid." 

Bill froze as something cold and sharp pressed against his back. The man's voice sounded familiar, deep and gravelly. 

"Take whatever you want," Bill said, calmly. "I'll cooperate."

"This isn't a robbery," the man snarled, sounding offended. 

"Then what do you want?" Bill asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

The man pressed the knife harder against his back, nearly drawing blood. "Get open the door, slowly, and get in the car."

Bill nodded, clicking the button on his keys to unlock the doors. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribcage. He very slowly opened the driver's side door, only to suddenly jerk it open as hard he could. He leapt out of the way, letting the door hit the mugger square in the stomach. Bill attempted to run, hearing the mugger curse.

"Son of a bitch," he growled.

He grabbed Bill from behind and tossed him to the concrete. Bill gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs. He tried to get up, but the mugger appeared again, behind him. He wrapped something thin and sharp around Bill's neck and wrenched his head back. The American hissed as the thing dug into the skin of his throat. 

"Stop fucking squirming," the mugger growled. 

He pressed a white cloth against Bill's face, covering his mouth and nose. Bill's senses began to muggy, his vision dimming. His hearing grew faint. He stopped struggled little by little and slumped against the ground. Where was anybody? Why wasn't anyone seeing this?

"Finally," he heard the mugger mumble. 

Bill lost consciousness as the mugger put him into the backseat of his own car, started it, and drove away from the hospital. 

Bill regained consciousness slowly. He groaned as his eyes struggled to stay open. His neck and chest ached, pulsing with pain like a toothache. His head felt heavy as he tried to lift it and look around. His wrists were bound to something cold and rough behind his back. He was sitting a rough brick floor covered in sawdust, and there was a single, small window several feet above the floor. The room itself was dark and unfurnished, save for whatever it was that Bill was tied to. It felt like a pipe or something.

"Hello?" he called out tentatively.

He heard a door open, heavy footsteps descending a creaking staircase. Bill narrowed his eyes, trying to see in the dark. Something suddenly sparked in the darkness, blinding him momentarily. Bill shook his head, clearing the spots from his vision. A man stood in front of him, wearing ripped jeans and a faded, torn hoodie. He held a lantern in his gnarled hands, the flame flickering idly. He had dark, thinning hair and grey-tinged stubble along his jaw. A scar cut a harsh line through the hair, like a fishhook. He had cold, brilliantly blue eyes that gleamed in the lantern light. Wasn't that Mr. Ellison?

"Who are you?" Bill demanded. "What do you want from me?"

The man chuckled and crouched down on his haunches, setting the lantern on the floor. He looked into Bill's eyes, smirking broadly.

"You don't know me, Bill Masters," he said. "But I'm sure you've heard of me from your husband, Detective Inspector Alec Hardy."

Bill's eyes widened and his heart started racing again. "Y-you're the Broadchurch Butcher. Collin Sameuls. Alec found you guilty of over a dozen murders."

"That's right," Collin agreed. "And he ruined my life. If he had just left well enough alone, I never would've been caught, and my family wouldn't have been taken from me!"

"You're crazy!" Bill snapped. "Kidnapping me isn't going to bring your family back!"

"No," Collin agreed calmly. "But it will destroy Hardy."

Bill's blood turned cold. "W-what?"

"Hardy destroyed my life," Collin snarled. "So I'm going to destroy his. And what better way to do so than by kidnapping the love of his life, the man who's changed him from Shit-face to an actual human being?"

"He's stronger than you think," Bill said defiantly. 

"No, he's not," Collin replied flatly. "I don't really plan to hurt you, Bill. What I really plan to do is watch Hardy fall apart. And with you gone, that won't take long."

Bill snarled, struggled against his restraints. "You're wrong. He won't fall apart. He and the others will find us, and you'll go back to jail and stay there!"

Collin laughed and stood up, taking the lantern with him. "We'll see, Dr. Masters. We shall see."

He left the room, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Alec was worried. It was almost eleven, but Bill still wasn't home yet. He hadn't texted Alec since ten thirty, saying that he was on his way home. Alec sipped his drink and took his phone off the table, checking it again. Maybe Bill was held up in surgery or something. 

'Just give him some time,' Alec thought. 'This isn't the first time this has happened.'

That was extremely true. Both of their work schedules could be pretty hectic. Sometimes one of them would come home well after the other had gone to bed. There had also been a few occasions when the hospital had been so short-staffed that Bill had had to sleep there for a few nights to help out. But surely he would've told Alec that he was staying late? Unless of course he'd been pulled away suddenly. Maybe he was in surgery right now. With that as comfort, Alec drained his wine and then took his glass and plate into the kitchen. The day had been rather uneventful after speaking to Mr. Stanford. He and Miller had taken his statement and then spoken to his friend, Jack Harley, the man he was restoring the car for. Unfortunately, he didn't know anybody who would want to steal the car. They put word out to the public to keep an eye out for a black car with red stripes on both doors and two blue stripes on the front of it. So far, though, nobody had seen anything.

Alec returned to the living room and turned on the TV, mostly for background noise as he went over some paperwork. He kept his phone close by, in case Bill or anybody else called him. Time ticked by, and soon it was eleven forty five. Alec yawned and took off his glasses, rubbing at his tired eyes and temples. He picked up his phone again, but there were still no calls or messages from Bill. Now that was worrisome. Where was he? Alec bit his lip and dialed Bill's number. It went straight to his voice mail.

"Hey, love," Alec said, rubbing his neck. "I know you're probably busy, so just, call me as soon as you can, okay? I'm going to bed. I love you."

He hung up, still a tad worried. It wasn't like Bill to turn his phone off. As a doctor he needed it on at all times so people could page him. Alec sighed and leaned back into the couch. He wasn't sure if he could go to bed, not without knowing where Bill was. He dialed the hospital's number, thinking that it couldn't hurt to check to see if Bill was still there. The dial tone continued for a couple minutes, Alec tapping his fingers nervously against his knee. Finally, someone answered.

"Broadchurch Memorial Hospital," a woman's voice said. "Can I help you?"

"This is Alec Hardy," Alec said. "My husband is Dr. William Masters. I just wondering if he was still there? He hasn't come home yet, so I've been a little worried."

"Let me check," the woman said.

Alec could hear her typing, could faintly hear the background noise of people talking and walking around. The woman spoke again.

"According to the logs, Dr. Masters clocked out at ten o'clock," she told Alec. 

Alec licked his lips. So Bill had indeed left the hospital. But why wasn't he home yet? Alec ran a hand through his hair. 

'Maybe I'm just worrying too much,' he thought. 'He probably stopped to get something on the way home.'

"Thank you," he told the woman, and hung up with a sigh. 

Alec scrubbed his hands down his face. He knew he should go to bed. It wouldn't help anybody if he stayed up all night worrying. He turned off the TV and headed upstairs. He changed into some boxers and an undershirt, brushed his teeth, took his medicine, then got into bed, setting his alarm for eight again. He laid down and closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come. He always had trouble sleeping when Bill wasn't there. Alec tossed and turned, but couldn't could comfortable. He groaned and flopped over onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. He glanced over at Bill's side of the bed, looking cold and empty. He didn't want to sleep there in case Bill came home, but he usually just climbed beside Alec anyway and cuddled against his side. Alec rolled over and pressed his face into Bill's pillow, inhaling deeply. It still smelled strongly of him-the rich musk of his skin, his hair.

"Goodnight, Bill," Alec murmured, closing his eyes.

At exactly eight the next morning, Alec's alarm went off. He mumbled sleepily and turned it off without opening his eyes. He cracked open one and looked around. He was still on Bill's side of the bed, his face half-pressed into the pillow. Alec sat up and yawned, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Bill?" he called out. "Are you home, love?"

There was no answer. The house was eerily quiet. Alec left the bed and stepped out into the hallway. There nobody in the shower, no noises coming from the kitchen. Alec went downstairs, noticing that Bill's car wasn't in the driveway. His heart began to race. He went back upstairs and grabbed his phone, checking it for missed calls or texts. There weren't any. Alec called Bill again, but it just went to voicemail.

"Bill, please," Alec said. "Where are you? Why aren't you answering your phone?" His voice cracked a little from worry, and he sighed, composing himself. "Look, love, just please call me and let me know you're okay, alright?"

He hung up and anxiously wrung his hands before going through his morning routine-taking a shower, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, making tea and breakfast. He ate slowly, his mind still distracted by Bill's absence. He decided to leave early, so he could swing by the hospital to see if Bill was still there. Maybe he didn't actually clock out like the woman last night had said. Alec left the house at eight thirty and headed to the hospital. He didn't even have to enter the parking lot. Bill's reserved space near the entrance was empty. 

"What the hell?" Alec asked himself. "Where are you, Masters?"

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, unsure what to do. Should he report Bill missing? He'd already been gone twenty-four hours. Alec took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He parked his car on the side of the street and entered the hospital, wrinkling his nose at the medicinal smell. A nurse walking by noticed him and approached.

"Can I help you, sir?" 

"Maybe," Alec said. "Have you seen Dr. William Masters yet this morning?"

"No, I haven't," the nurse replied. "He was hear yesterday though. He left last night at ten." She tiled her head, studying Alec. "Is everything alright, sir?"

"I have no bloody idea," Alec answered, walking back outside to his car.

He got back inside it, trying to relax. He did have a tendency to overreact to these types of things, but something just didn't feel right. He started his car and drove to work. He arrived and entered the building, heading straight to his office. Miller was already there, and she turned to look at him as he entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"Is everything alright, Hardy?" she asked as he sat down at his desk. "You look upset."

Alec rubbed his jaw and leaned forward on his desk. "Bill never came home last night."

Miller's eyes widened. "Really? Why not?"

"I don't know," Alec admitted. "I keep calling him, but his phone just goes to voicemail. I went by the hospital, but they told me he left at ten last night." He sighed, messing his hair. "Something doesn't feel right, Miller. This isn't like him."

"Have you spoken to him at all?" Miller asked. 

"He texted me last night that he was on his way home, but that's it," Alec answered. "I haven't spoken to him since."

"Do you want to report him missing?" Miller asked. 

"I'm not sure," Alec admitted. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I can't help it. Maybe he is just busy and has to have his phone off for whatever reason, but he would still call me and let me know what was going on." He bit his lip. "I'm worried, Miller. Something's wrong. I can feel it."

Miller fiddled with her pen. "Look, why don't I follow up with Mr. Stanford and Jack Harley? After all, we still haven't found the car, so until we do there's not much we can do with this case, especially with such a vague description of the suspect."

Alec crossed his arms, unsure what to say. After a few minutes, he spoke again. "I think I'm just being paranoid. Bill's a busy man, and sometimes he does forget to text me to say that he'll be late. If I still haven't heard from him by this afternoon I'll report him missing." 

"Are you sure?" Miller asked.

Alec nodded. Miller pursed her lips but said nothing else. She handed Alec some files, and together they went through the papers within. So far they had no other suspects in Mr. Stanford's assault and stolen car. Nobody had even seen the car around. Broadchurch was a small town. Surely the suspect hadn't managed to flee the area already? Alec kept checking his phone, anxiously awaiting a call or text from Bill. 

'Come on, Masters,' he thought. 'Please at least text me, let me know you're okay.'

The day dragged on. Alec grew more and more anxious. He must've called Bill over a dozen times, only to be greeted by his husband's voice mail. He began to grow irritated the longer it went without hearing from Bill. Afternoon came around with still no word, and Alec now knew he had no choice but to report Bill missing. However, just as he was about to leave his office to do so, his cellphone rang. He grabbed it instantly and answered. 

"Hello?" he said, a tad breathlessly.

"Is this Alec Hardy?" a man asked.

"Yes," Alec answered, raising an eyebrow at Miller, who was watching him. "Who is this?"

"Officer Lawrence," the man answered. "I was out on patrol when I noticed a car off the side of the main road." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Hardy, but it's your husband's car."

Alec's heart jolted. "W-what?"

"Get here as soon as you can, sir," Officer Lawrence said, sounding solemn.

He hung up, and Alec leaned against his desk, his hands shaking. Miller stood up.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Who was it?"

"An officer found Bill's car off the main road," Alec answered, his voice trembling. "I have to go."

"Can I come with you?" Miller asked.

Alec hesitated before he nodded, and they left the office together.

Alec felt numb as he and Miller walked through past the police tape barrier. There were several police cars around, lights flashing. Bill's car was in a ditch, the windshield almost completely shattered, several dents and scratches along the doors. There was no blood or any sign that Bill was injured, so Alec took that as a good sign.

"Oh, my God," Miller said. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Alec replied, his voice quiet.

He approached Officer Lawrence, who waiting by the crash site. His expression softened as Alec approached. 

"Hey, Hardy," he said. "Sorry we had to meet up like this."

"What happened?" Alec asked. 

"It looks like Bill just lost control and crashed," Lawrence said. "But I don't think that's what actually happened."

"What do you mean?" Alec asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Bill's DNA was mostly in the backseat," Lawrence explained. "He wasn't driving."

"Then who the hell was?" Alec demanded.

"We don't know," Lawrence admitted. "Whoever it was was wearing gloves, so there were no suspicious fingerprints or viable DNA samples." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hardy, we think this is a staged crash. Someone's kidnapped your husband."


	6. Chapter 6

Bill wasn't sure if he'd ever felt as hopeless as he did right now. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free of his restraints. The only thing he'd succeeded in doing was scraping his wrists raw and bloody and rattling the pipe he was tied to. He had no idea where he was. For all he knew he wasn't even in Broadchurch anymore. He wasn't even sure what kind of building he was in. He definitely had to be in a basement of some sort, judging by the staircase he could just faintly make out in the perpetual darkness. The only time the room wasn't completely dark was when the sun would set, which made Bill think he was in a room facing west. Though the sunset only illuminated the room a little, and it showed nothing useful, save for the faint outline of a desk or a table, and a chair. Who has an office in a basement?

Bill struggled against his bindings again, the pipe rattling loudly as he did so. His wrists burned with pain. His eyes ached from constantly trying to see in the dark. He could tell by the light from the window that twenty four hours had already past. Surely Alec had reported him missing by now? Bill licked his dry, cracked lips. He'd tried to sleep. but all he could think about was Alec. Collin had said that his whole reason for kidnapping Bill was that he wanted to hurt Alec, make him fall apart at the seams. Bill had faith that Alec wouldn't fall apart, but a nasty part of his brain kept reminding him about what a mess Alec had been before they'd met. Not eating, sleeping, taking his medication.

'But he's better now,' Bill thought. 'He takes better care of himself now, and he has Ellie and Daisy and Tess. They'll look out for him, won't they?'

'But you know him, Bill,' another part of his brain thought. 'You know that he pushes people away during difficult times. He's done it to you before.'

That was unfortunately very true. Bill sighed, flexing against his restraints. A rumbling noise made him jump. The pipe he was tied to suddenly shuddered and turned cold. He could hear water running through it. Was he in an apartment building's basement? Bill looked up, straining his eyes, and he could faintly see some pipes along the ceiling. The water abruptly shut off, and the pipe stopped shuddering. Bill shifted around on the ground, wincing at the pain in his wrists. He hadn't seen Collin since last night. He was worried what that meant. Bill coughed as he kicked up some sawdust. His throat was dry and hoarse from him trying to yell for help. He'd spent most of last night doing that before falling into a restless sleep. He'd dreamed of Alec, as he often did, but it was Alec sitting huddled in a corner of his office, crying, and Bill was on the other side of the door, but no matter what he did he couldn't open it and comfort his husband.

"Why did you leave me, Bill?" Alec sobbed. "Why?"

"I didn't leave you, Alec," Bill yelled out desperately, rattling the doorknob. "I'm right here! I just can't open the door!"

He'd awoken then, disoriented, his eyes stinging with tears. Bill jumped when he heard the door open and Collin came down the stairs, looking pleased with himself. Bill's stomach clenched. The serial killer stopped just short of Bill and crouched down on his haunches, his blue eyes glinting. Bill shivered and looked away.

"The police have found your car," Collin told him.

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked, cautiously looking up.

"I wrecked it and planted it in a ditch off the main road," Collin explained. "I made sure that I left no fingerprints or DNA at the scene, so they can't track me. You, on the other hand. Your DNA is all over that thing, especially in the backseat. The police and Hardy will think that you've been kidnapped, but they won't have any idea who took you. And that will kill Hardy." His voice held such relish that it made Bill sick to his stomach.

"They will find you," he snarled at Collin. "Alec found you once and he'll find you again."

"No, he won't," Collin said. "It took him two months to catch me years ago. I've learned a lot since than. I was sloppy last time, but not this time. I'll make sure they never find us."

Bill clenched his teeth. "What exactly is your plan here?"

"I told you," Collin replied. "I kidnap you, and Hardy falls apart. I destroy his life like he destroyed mine."

"What are you going to do with me?" Bill asked. "If Alec falls apart and never finds us, what are you going to do with me?"

"Kill you, obviously," Collin answered casually. "If Hardy hasn't broken by then, finding your corpse on the beach definitely will break him."

Bill felt the color drain from his face. Collin laughed at his fear, sending chills down Bill's spine. The pipe Bill was tied to suddenly shuddered again, and as water began running through it, the metal became incredibly hot, burning Bill's skin. He yelled out as his flesh was seared by the hot metal, his whole body going tense from the pain. Sweat gushed from every pore, soaking his clothes. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped, and Bill stopped screaming, slumping against the pipe, panting. Pain pulsed through his body, his wrists and hands feeling like they'd been set on fire. 

"I may have lied about wanting to hurt you," Collin told him. "But I'm a serial killer, right? Lying's what we do." He brought his face closer to Bill's. "Pain is what we do."

Bill snarled and spat in Collin's face, his eyes bright with defiance. The murderer's eyes blazed and he wiped the saliva off his cheek. He stood up and stalked over to the desk, rummaging around inside it. He came back holding a roll of duct tape and wadded up cloth. Bill struggled as Collin stuffed the cloth into his mouth and bound the duct tape across his lips, holding it in place. Collin then took a hunting knife from his jacket, the blade shining wickedly. Bill's eyes widened and he struggled, but it was no use. Collin turned the knife and brought it down onto Bill's outstretched right leg, cutting through the fabric of his pants and the skin underneath. Bill howled behind the gag as flesh and muscle tore, blood running down his flesh and onto the floor. Collin stopped once the cut was about eight inches long, bleeding messily. 

"You've just entered a world beyond your worse fears, Masters," he snarled. "I own you now. Don't you ever fucking forget that."

He stormed out of the room, and the room was dark once again. Bill breathed heavily, watching as his blood caked into the dust on the floor. His leg throbbed, the gash seeping like a leaking faucet. Tears welled up in Bill's eyes, dripping down his cheeks and soaking the gag. 

'Alec, please hold yourself together,' he thought. 'I need you.'


	7. Chapter 7

Alec sat in the interrogation room back at the office, feeling angry and anxious. There was a camera on a tripod aimed right at him, and sitting across from him was Elaine Jenkinson, Chief of the Broadchurch Police Department. Alec looked from her toward the two-way mirror, where he knew Miller was standing, watching. The irony wasn't lost on Alec that he'd been in this room dozens of times, interrogating criminals. Now here he was, a suspect, being questioned. It made him angry, but he was trying to keep his temper in check. Elaine switched on the camera and picked up the pen sitting beside her notebook on the table.

"When was the last time you saw your husband, Alec?" she asked.

"Yesterday morning," Alec answered calmly. "He had an early shift at the hospital and left the house around seven that morning."

"And did anything seem out of the ordinary?" Elaine asked. "Did Bill seem anxious or upset about anything?"

"No," Alec replied. "Everything was fine."

Elaine clicked her pen and wrote something down. Alec's fists clenched under the table. He gritted his teeth, willing his anger down. This was such a waste of time. How could Elaine or anybody think that he would do anything to hurt Bill?

"Have you and Bill had any recent arguments?" Elaine asked, bringing Alec back to Earth. "Even a small one?"

"No," Alec said.

Elaine raised her brows but said nothing. "When was the last time you heard from Bill?"

"Last night," Alec answered. "He texted me at ten thirty saying that he was on his way home, but he never arrived. I called the hospital, even went to it earlier this morning, and I was told that he did indeed leave last night."

"And you have no idea where he could be now?" Elaine asked. "He could've gone to a bar to get a drink or to the store."

"He would've told me," Alec said sternly. "We tell each other everything."

"Really?" Elaine said. "Everything?"

Alec took a quiet breath, his temper close to boiling over. Elaine was watching him closely. She was using the same tactics they used on other suspects, trying to goad them into letting something slip. But Alec knew he had nothing to hide. So why was she questioning him? Why weren't they looking for Bill?

"Yes, we tell each other everything," he told Elaine, clasping his hands together on the table. "Both of our previous marriages were poisoned by lies. We both know better than to hide things from each other now." He licked his lips. "Why are you questioning me?"

"You know the drill, Alec," Elaine said. "We have to consider every suspect."

"But how on Earth could you think that I would do anything to hurt Bill?" Alec half-shouted. "I love him. Why would I hurt him?"

"I'm not saying you did," Elaine told him. "But we can't just ignore the possibility."

"This is bullshit!" Alec spat, slamming a hand against the table. "You are wasting valuable time questioning me when you could be out there searching for him! He's already been gone twenty four hours! God only knows where he is or who took him!"

"Calm down, Alec," Elaine ordered. "Or I will call for backup and have you cuffed."

Alec's heart was racing, his breathing coming out in angry pants. He was standing up, his chair knocked to the floor. He sighed and picked it up and sat back down, resigned. He looked over at the mirror again, wishing he could see Miller. Surely she knew just how ridiculous this was? He turned back to Elaine, who picked up her pen again.

"Did Bill have any enemies that you know of?" she asked, as if nothing had happened. "A colleague, a patient, even another former partner?"

"No," Alec answered, rubbing his temples. "At least I don't think he has any here. He left most of his old life, including enemies, back in America."

Alec was interrogated for an hour before he was finally let out of the room. Miller was in the hallway waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," Alec said, sounding tired. "They'll start searching and interviewing his colleagues at the hospital."

"Is that it?" Miller asked. "Who's in charge of looking for him?"

"Owens," Alec answered. "Elaine says I can continue with other cases, but I should stay away from Bill's case." His tone became bitter.

He started walking, determined. Miller followed him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Owens' desk," Alec said shortly.

He burst back into the main office and made a beeline towards Owens' desk. He was already sitting there, being briefed by an officer. He looked up as Alec strode over and stood in front of the desk.

"I will pay whatever amount of money you want if you let me take over this case," Alec told him.

"Hardy, that's unethical even for you," Owens said. "You know the rules. You may be a detective, but in this case's case, your family. I'll tell you when I find anything viable, but until then, you're better off working with Miller on your other cases."

"Come on, Owens," Alec said. "You can't leave me out of the loop like this!"

"I'm not leaving you out of the loop," Owens replied. "I'm following protocol."

Alec's temper flared again. "Fuck the bloody protocol! This is my husband that's missing, not some drunk that stumbled out of a pub at three in the morning!"

"Hardy," Miller said, placing a hand on his arm, "please calm down."

Alec looked at her, then around the room. People were staring, whispering among themselves. Alec snarled, jerked his arm away from Miller, and stormed out of the office. Miller looked at Owens apologetically, then went after Alec. She found him sitting on a bench outside the precinct, his head in his hands. The sky had clouded over, the wind blowing ominously. Miller walked over to the bench and sat down next to Alec. He scrubbed his hands across his face and looked up with a sigh.

"I'm sorry about that," he said.

"You don't have to be," Miller told him. "Anyone in your situation would be angry."

Alec ran a hand through his hair, licking his lips anxiously. He felt so angry and helpless and scared. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he quickly looked away from Miller, wiping them away furiously. Miller pretended not to notice.

"Listen, why don't you come over for dinner tonight?" she asked. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go home right now."

Alec hesitated in his answer. He wanted to say no, wanted to stay and spy on Owens and make sure he actually did his job. But part of him knew that that wasn't going to do anything but get him in trouble. And he also knew that he couldn't go home right now.

"I'll come over," he told Miller. "Thanks."

Thunder crashed, and lightning lit up the bedroom. Alec tossed and turned fruitlessly, tears dripping down his face. He hated storms as much as he hated water itself. It always took him back to Sandbrook. It was even worse without Bill there to comfort him. The bed felt cold and lonely. Owens had interviewed several of Bill's colleagues at the hospital, but none of them had provided anything useful. They said that Bill was his normal self his entire shift. A few people saw him leave the hospital, but that was it. Nothing suspicious at all.

"Don't worry, Hardy," Owens had told him over the phone. "We'll keep looking, and we will find him."

Alec had thanked him, but he didn't actually mean it. He went over to Miller's for dinner, but he didn't eat much. He did, however, down three glasses of red wine, in the hopes that it would help him sleep. But he couldn't sleep. His whole being was yelling at him to do something, to look for Bill himself. But he didn't know where to even start. Alec let out a sob as the storm continued. He left the bed and went across the hall to the bathroom, rummaging around in the medicine cabinet until he found the bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills. He swallowed two of them dry and splashed some water on his face, wiping it dry with a towel.

"Get a grip, Hardy," he mumbled to himself.

He went back into the hallway, stared at the bedroom but scoffed. There was no way he'd be able to sleep there with Bill gone. Alec went downstairs and flopped down on the couch, flipping on the TV to drown out the noise of the storm. But, despite the alcohol and the meds, Alec stayed awake all night. By the time his eyes were closing, his phone alarm went off. He groaned but got ready for work anyway. He skipped breakfast and brushing his teeth, but did take a shower. He left the house feeling like a zombie, unaware that his downward spiral was being carefully watched.


	8. Chapter 8

Ellie watched Hardy get out of his car. Even from a distance, she could tell that something was off. He walked with less confidence than before, and his shoulders were slumped. As he got closer, Ellie saw the shadows under his red, bloodshot eyes, his uncombed hair, his scraggly beard beginning to make an appearance. He looked terrible, but why wouldn't he? Bill had been missing for two days already, and there were no new leads. He'd seemed fine at dinner last night, though he had downed more wine than usual, and didn't eat much. 

"Are you alright?" Ellie asked as he approached. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine, Miller," Hardy said. "Just had too much to drink last night."

His voice sounded hoarse. Ellie didn't buy that answer. Part of her had been reluctant to let him go home last night, considering how much wine he'd consumed. But she realized how awful it must have been going back to an empty house, an empty bed. Did he even sleep last night? If the circles under his eyes were anything to go by, she was guessing probably not. 

"Have you spoken to Owens?" she asked. "Did he have anything to say?"

"Nothing useful," Hardy answered bitterly. He ran a hand through his hair. "What are we doing here?"

"Follow-up with Mr. Stanford," Ellie answered. 

"Right," Hardy said. "Let's make this quick."

Ellie nodded and they walked back into Mr. Stanford's open garage, where he was working on another car, this one an old truck. He looked up from underneath the hood as they approached. His injuries from his assault had faded, and he smiled when he saw them.

"Ah, Detectives Hardy and Miller," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"We're just here to see if you have anything else to report," Ellie said. "Has the man who assaulted and stolen from you come back?"

"No," Mr. Stanford answered. "I haven't seen the bastard since that night."

"Great," Hardy said. He turned to Miller. "Let's get out of here."

"In a minute," Ellie told him.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. Mr. Stanford raised his eyebrows.

"Everything alright, Detective Hardy?" he asked. "You don't look so good."

"Yes, alright, I get it," Hardy snapped. "I look like shit. That's to be expected when your husband's been kidnapped, and the idiot in charge of the case hasn't found anything!"

Hardy stormed out of the garage. Mr. Stanford looked shocked, and Ellie was too.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stanford," she said. "I'll be right back."

Ellie walked out of the garage and found Hardy sitting in his car, his hands over his face, shoulders shaking. Ellie approached the passenger side door and found it unlocked. She slipped inside, and Hardy jumped. His eyes were wet with tears, and he hastily looked away from her. Ellie wasn't sure what to do or say. So she stayed quiet. She knew from experience that sometimes it was better to wait for Hardy to talk than try and force it out of him. After a few minutes, he sighed and looked back at her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just-I can't-I'm not." His voice cracked.

"It's alright, Hardy," Ellie said quietly. "Take a breath."

Hardy inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, his eyes closed. He was fidgeting with the gold ring on his left ring finger. His hands were shaking slightly. 

"Look, why don't you let me handle the rest of the follow-ups?" Ellie said. "You should go somewhere and try to relax."

"I can't relax," Hardy said, opening his eyes again. "I need the other cases as a distraction. If I don't do work, my mind will..." He trailed off, but Ellie understood what he meant.

"Alright," she agreed. "But let me know if it's too much, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hardy agreed with a nod. "Thanks, Miller."

They stayed in his car for a few more minutes while he composed himself. They followed up with Mr. Stanford and Jack Harley, but neither of them had any other useful information. Ellie kept a careful watch on Hardy all day. She could tell just how deeply Bill's disappearance was affecting him. His temper was back to it's shorter fuse, he wasn't eating, and he was slowly reverting back to what he'd been before Bill. However, a phone call he received later that afternoon made Ellie hopeful.

"Hello?" Hardy said as he picked his phone up off his desk.

He listened for a minute before he let out a tense breath. "Fuck," he said. "God, Tess, I'm sorry. I completely forgot. Things have been busy, so it just slipped my mind." He paused for a minute. "Yeah, no, it's fine. Nothing's going on, Tess. I've just been busy." He bit his lower lip and sighed. "Bill's missing. I-I don't know. They won't let me anywhere near the case. L-look I have to go, alright? We'll talk more tomorrow, okay? Bye."

He slammed the phone down and groaned, running both his hands through his hair. 

"Everything alright with Tess?" Ellie asked. 

"Yeah," Hardy answered. "I just forgot that I have Daisy this weekend. With Bill's disappearance it just slipped my mind, and now Tess is mad that I didn't tell her sooner." He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I have to go and pick up Daisy. I'll be back later."

"Alright," Ellie said, watching him leave.

She was hoping that maybe Tess and Daisy could help him through this better than she could. As she watched Hardy leave the building, she saw Owens returning to his desk. Ellie quickly left Hardy's office and walked over to him.

"Hey, Owens," she said. "Any updates on Bill Masters?"

Owens sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Nice disguise, Hardy." He rolled his eyes. "Did you really think I'd tell you any info I had?"

"Just please give me something," Ellie begged. "Anything that I can report back to Hardy. He needs to hear that you've found something. Anything." She swallowed. "Alec needs to know. He's already losing it. And the longer this goes on, the worse he'll get. Do you really want him to revert back to being Shit-face?"

"Look, Ellie," Owens said, leaning forward on his desk. "I get that Hardy's your friend, and that you care about him, so I'll tell you the truth. Bill's already been missing for two days, and once a missing person's case goes to three days, we both what that means, right?"

Dread bloomed in Ellie's stomach, but she nodded. "After three days, we call off the search and start looking for a body."

She shuddered to think of what that would do to Hardy. It would do more than hurt him. It would destroy him. 

Alec waited in his car outside Tess' house, staring listlessly out the window. On the drive over, he'd been greeted by one of Bill's missing person flyers flapping on a telephone pole. The picture on the flyer was the most recent one he had: Bill in his doctor's coat, giving a lecture at the hospital. Alec had felt so proud to take that picture. The passenger door opened, jerking him out of his daze. Daisy slid into the seat beside him, her hair braided and falling past her shoulders. She held a small suitcase in her lap and had her backpack over her shoulder.

"Hi, Dad," she said. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too, love," Alec said, reaching out to hug her.

When they separated, Daisy took his hand. 

"Mum told me about Bill," she said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, love," Alec answered. "I promise." 

He hoped he sounded convincing, because he knew he didn't look okay. Or feel okay, for that matter. But he would deal with all of that later. With another person in the house, maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely. He drove back home, listening to Daisy chat amiably about her friends at school. He cooked her dinner that evening, but found that he still wasn't hungry. He downed four glasses of Scotch, though, and attempted to help Daisy with her homework. She then went off to the spare bedroom to do her own thing, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts. He finished Scotch number five and sat down on the couch, his head spinning, his blood tingling. Bill was all he could think about, despite his attempts to distract himself. 

"Who would take him?" Alec asked aloud, staring up at the ceiling. 

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there. Daisy came out of her room later that evening to say goodnight, but Alec remained downstairs, drinking another Scotch and popping some sleeping pills along with it. But it was the same as the night before. No matter how much he tried, sleep refused to come. His nightmares were now vividly about Bill, finding him dead on the beach like Danny Latimer. Alec woke up crying, the sound of his phone alarm like a hammer to his skull. As he was begrudgingly getting ready for work, he thought he saw movement by the kitchen window, and thought he heard what sounded like a camera shutter going off. 

"Is everything alright, Dad?" Daisy asked as they left the house.

"Everything's fine," Alec answered, and Daisy looked suspicious, but didn't say anything. 

When she looked down at her phone, Alec took a slow sip from the flask in his pocket as he walked Daisy down to the bus stop.


	9. Chapter 9

'Alec's hair was soft as Bill stroked it. He smiled when the Scotsman pressed closer, cuddling against his chest. The sunlight shining through the hotel room curtains illuminated the reddish marks across his pale shoulders and neck. Bill traced one of the marks, smiling. It the morning after their first time together, and Bill was certain that he'd never been more comfortable or satisfied than he was right now, naked underneath the thick blanket and soft sheets of the hotel bed, holding Alec Hardy close to him. Last night had been everything Bill had wanted it to be-gentle, passionate, full of love. Alec had fallen asleep afterward, but not before saying what he'd been wanting to say for months.

'"I love you,'" he'd said quietly, his cheek against Bill's chest, over his heart.

'"I love you too,'" Bill had responded with no hesitation.

He fell asleep eventually as well, and had woken up that morning thinking that it had been a dream. Only to look down and find Alec still snuggled into him, snoring softly. Bill had been awake for nearly an hour now, watching his lover sleep, noting how much younger and relaxed he looked in sleep than he did awake. Bill stroked a fingertip down Alec's smooth back, feeling the wiry muscles beneath the fair, freckled flesh.

'He's so beautiful,' Bill thought.

Alec's face suddenly scrunched up, his eyelids fluttered as he woke up. His big brown, doe-like eyes gleamed in the sunlight as he looked up at Bill, blinking at him with such raw vulnerability and love that it made his heart lurch in his chest.

'"Good morning," he said, his voice soft and sleepy, his accent thicker than usual.

'"Good morning to you, too,'" Bill replied, kissing his forehead, then his lips. '"How do you feel?'"

Alec smiled, his eyes shining. '"Better than I've felt in a long time.'" He kissed Bill's neck, his jaw, his lips. "'I love you. I said that last night, right?'"

Bill chuckled, stroking his cheek, tracing his mouth with his thumb. '"Yes, you did. But I like hearing you say it again.'"

'"I love you,'" Alec whispered, nuzzling him.

Bill started to reply, but the pain appeared out of nowhere, and he screamed.'

The memory popped like a bubble and Bill yelled behind the gag, the pipe he was tied to burning the flesh of his wrists and hands as the hot water flowed through it. It shut off after a few minutes, and he slumped against the pipe, panting, his body soaked in sweat. The dim light coming in through the high window told him that it was now the start of a new day, meaning it had been three days since Bill had been kidnapped by Collin and tied up down in his basement of Hell. Bill tried to escape his prison mentally by focusing on Alec, his memories. But the memories and fantasies always ended, forcing Bill back into his private torture chamber. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to hold on.

'Collin had said that he didn't want to hurt me,' Bill thought. 'But I guess he changed his mind.'

As it was, not only were Bill's hands and wrists burned so thoroughly that he could almost smell the ruined flesh, he was also starving. He hadn't eaten or had any water in three days. His tongue and throat felt like sandpaper, his lips cracked and bloody. His eyes ached from crying and from his lack of sleep. The cut on his leg was beginning to fester, red streaks crawling up the flesh, the wound caked in sawdust. Bill knew the wound was infected, by it's appearance and because he was starting to run a fever. His skin was slick with sweat, but he shivered uncontrollably at the same time.

'I'm in Hell,' he thought, shifting around on the rough floor.

He still had hope that Alec or someone would find him. Someone had to find him. Bill wasn't sure he'd be able to withstand this much longer. The human body could only withstand so much stress and trauma before it broke. How much longer did Bill have? He wasn't sure anymore.

'I hope Alec's alright,' Bill thought. 'He's stronger than he was when we first met. He won't fall apart.'

The door to the basement suddenly opened and slammed shut. Bill winced at the sound as Collin entered the room, whistling. He held an envelope in his left hand as he crouched down in front of Bill, his cold blue eyes gleaming. Bill closed his eyes and looked away, his heart racing.

"I have something to show you," Collin said, his voice dripping with saccharine.

Bill didn't look at him, kept his eyes tightly closed. He heard Collin slit open the envelope. He grabbed Bill's chin roughly and turned his head. gripping tight enough to hurt. Bill whimpered despite himself and opened his eyes reluctantly. Collin held a stack of developed photos in his hands. He held them up and showed them to Bill one by one. They were pictures of Alec, and he looked awful. The pictures were slightly grainy, evidence of them being zoomed in, but Bill could still see the dark circles under Alec's bloodshot eyes, his unkempt hair and beard, his messy appearance. He looked so defeated and put-out. Bill felt tears in his eyes.

"I knew it wouldn't take long to break him," Collin said gleefully. "He's not as strong as you think, Dr. Masters. Just look at him-looking like a fucking zombie. And check this picture out." He showed Bill a photo of Alec walking with Daisy, looking tired and angry. He was drinking from a flask.

"I've turned him into a bloody alcoholic," Collin boasted proudly. "How long do you think until I put him in the hospital?"

Bill snarled behind the gag, his anger catching fire despite how ill he felt. Collin laughed, putting the pictures back in the envelope.

"You do know he's not even in charge of looking for you, right?" he told Bill. "He's family, so he can't get too close to the case. And that just kills him. He's slowly unraveling, just like I knew he would." He smiled evilly. "He's weaker than I thought."

Bill's eyes blazed, and he snapped his head forward as hard he could. Collin yelled out in pain as Bill's forehead caught him right in the nose with a satisfying crunch. Bill's vision blurred as he shook his head. Collin was on the floor, on his back, writhing and cursing. When he sat up, blood was pouring from both his nostrils, his nose crooked and discolored. He spat blood onto the floor, coughing. Bill's head throbbed, but he was satisfied all the same. Collin snarled and stood up, holding one hand under his nose to catch the blood.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't done that," he growled. "It won't be long until the police call off the search, and then they'll start looking for your body. And I'll make sure Hardy finds it first!"

He stormed out of the room. Bill panted through his nose, the chills wracking his body, his stomach clenching painfully, the wound on his leg oozing blood and cloudy fluid. Tears dripped down his face. He was running out of time.

Alec was in his office, his head buried in his arms on his desk. The lights were off, the blinds shut, the door shut. He'd spent the last hour in there, throwing up in the trashcan. He was so hungover he was amazed that he'd actually gotten to work. He was also extremely tired, his eyes dry and red. He'd been hoping to catch some sleep in his office, but he was still wide awake, his mind alight with dozens of thoughts of where Bill was, who had taken him, why was he taken. Nothing Alec thought of added up. A knock at the door made him jump, and he groaned.

"Go away," he called out.

"Hardy, it's Owens," said Owens. "Open up."

Alec perked up a little. He took his head off his desk. "It's open."

Owens stepped into the room and switched on the lights. Alec hissed and winced, pain lancing through his skull and his eyes. Owens raised his eyebrows.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Alec replied, rubbing his temples. "What do you want?"

Owens sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Alec," he began, slowly, "it's been three days, and we still haven't found Bill, or seen any sight of him alive."

Alec's stomach clenched, and his heart crawled up into his throat. "W-what are you saying?"

"We have to call of the live body search," Owens said. "And start looking for a dead body." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Alec. I wish there was more that I could do."

He walked out of the office. Alec's heart was racing, and jumped from his chair and went after Owens.

"Owens, wait you can't just give up," he protested. "Bill is still alive, we just need to look harder. M-maybe someone saw something that they didn't remember, or didn't think it was strange. Or..." He stopped when Owens reached his desk and turned around, his face full of empathy.

"Alec, I really am sorry," he said. "But we've looked everywhere, interviewed everyone we could think of. We have no leads, no suspects, no viable clues, nothing."

"No," Alec insisted stubbornly, shaking his head. He spotted the case file on Owens' desk. "You're just not looking hard enough." He went for the file, but Owens grabbed it before he could.

"Maybe we've been going about this all wrong," Alec pressed, staring to feel desperate. "Bill might not have had any enemies, but I have a lot. Maybe one of them took Bill."

"You've pissed a lot of people off over the years, Hardy," Owens said. "That's a huge pool of suspects to pour over."

"But it's relevant!" Alec yelled, uncaring that people were watching. "You know it is!"

Owens slammed the file down onto his desk. "Alec, you need to face the facts. Your husband is gone!"

"You son of a bitch!" Alec threw the first punch, knocking Owens into the wall.

The detective looked stunned as he lifted a hand to his nose and found blood. He punched Alec, hard enough that he hit the floor. He got right back up though, and it didn't take much more for the brawl to start. People were shouted as the two fought, scoring punches and body blows. Eventually, Miller and Chief Jenkinson came into the room after hearing the chaos.

"Alec, Owens, stop this," Miller exclaimed, rushing over to the two men.

With great effort, she got between them and pulled Alec away from Owens. He was breathing heavily, a bruise already forming around his right eye, his bottom lip and nose oozing blood. Owens fared no better, glaring at the Scot as he wiped his mouth with his fist.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Jenkinson shouted. She looked from Alec to Owens, waiting for an explanation, but neither of them offered one.

"He threw the first punch," Owens blurted.

Jenkinson turned to Alec. "Is that true, Hardy?"

Alec spat blood onto the floor. "Yes."

She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer, sniffing him. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Alec snapped. "Just hungover."

"He's lying," Owens said. "He's been in his office throwing up for the last hour. He's been drunk this whole time."

"You shut the fuck up before I knock your bloody teeth out!" Alec threatened, charging toward him again, only for Miller to hold him back.

"Alec, I'm sorry to have to do this, but you're fired," Jenkinson said. "Turn in your badge."

"Are you bloody kidding me?" Alec demanded. "I'm fired?"

"You're a loose cannon, Hardy," Jenkinson replied sadly. "Until you get yourself under control again, you are relieved of duty. Turn in your badge, your ID, and your gun."

Alec blinked, looking from the Chief to Miller, to Owens, to everyone watching them. He scoffed. "Fine."

He tossed his badge, ID card, and his gun onto Owens' desk, then stormed out of the precinct.


	10. Chapter 10

Voices broke into Bill's fevered dreams. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past several hours, shivering, his fever now reaching a dangerous temperature. The wound on his leg was pulsing with pain, caked in pus and dust from the floor. His hands and wrists were stiff and burned to a crisp. He was now completely numb to the burning that would come from the pipe he was tied to. The voices he was hearing grew closer, and the door to the basement opened. Bill flinched at the sound, his eyes closed, his breathing getting shallow.

"See what I mean?" Collin said as he descended the stairs. 

"Jeez, he looks like he's on Death's fucking door," a new man's voice exclaimed. "How the hell did he manage to break your nose?"

"He's more of a fighter than I thought," Collin replied. "Just like Hardy, judging from the way you look."

The man snorted. "Tell me about. Fucker nearly knocked my teeth out. But at least I got him fired."

Fired? What were they talking about? Bill slowly opened his eyes, and it took a huge amount of effort just to lift his head. Collin stood a few feet away, wearing jeans and a beaten up leather jacket. His nose was swollen and purple as an eggplant, much to Bill's satisfaction. He was talking to a tall man dressed in a suit and tie, with neatly combed hair and a cropped goatee. His face would have been handsome, except for the the bloody, bruised nose with tissue stuffed up both nostrils, the split-open lip, and the cut along the bottom of his left eye. Who was he? The man and Collin were too absorbed in conversation to notice Bill watching them.

"You did a great job making sure nobody found us," Collin told the man. "And none of the others at the precinct were suspicious of you?"

"Not a one," the man replied proudly. "I can't believe how easy it was to fool them. I would've thought that Hardy would catch on to me, but he's been so drunk the past few days." He rubbed a hand across his lip. "Didn't stop him from beating the tar out of me though."

"All for the best," Collin told the man, gripping his shoulder. "You got him fired, exactly according to plan, and they've called off the live-body search."

Bill blinked. Alec had been fired? What the hell? Who was this man? Tremors wracked his body, goosebumps peppering his skin. His stomach was clenched tighter than a fist, his mouth so dry that he felt like he'd been drinking sand. Pus seeped along the wound on his leg. His hair was matted to his sweaty face, his eyes dry and prickly.

"Do you have the new pictures?" Collin asked the man. "And the case file?"

"Sure do," the man said, reaching into his jacket.

He handed Collin an envelope and a beige file with 'Case Closed' stamped across it in red. Collin accepted them and handed the man a wad of money held together with a rubber band. 

"Fantastic," Collin said, thumbing through the file. "This'll prevent Hardy from doing his own investigation." He smiled at the man, making Bill's skin crawl. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Owens."

"The pleasure is all mine," the man said with a smile of his own.

He looked over at Bill suddenly, who quickly looked away. Owens came over and stood above Bill, crossing his arms and looking down at the sick doctor.

"What are we going to do with him?" he asked, turning to Collin. "Leave him tied up down here?"

Collin set the file and the envelope down on the nearby desk, then walked over and stood next to Owens, staring at Bill, who refused to look up at them. 

"Well, the police have called off the live-body search," he said. "So it only makes since that they start looking for a dead body, right?"

"Right," Owens agreed. He glanced down at Bill. "So where are we taking him?"

"The beach," Collin answered. "Where the Latimer kid was found."

"That's almost poetic," Owens mused. "I like it. I'll go get the car."

He walked out of the room, went upstairs, and vanished from view. Collin crouched down and roughly grabbed Bill's chin, forcing his face up. Bill whimpered but opened his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"I told you I'd break him, Dr. Masters," Collin sneered. "Your husband isn't as strong as you thought, is he? He's been drinking himself into oblivion since you went missing. Can you imagine the pain it will cause, when he finds you on the beach?"

Bill's eyes were too dry to produce any tears, but he let out a low cry behind the gag either way. He still had a glimmer of hope that someone would find and rescue him, but that hope was growing dimmer. Collin cackled at Bill's fear, and the hairs along his neck stood up straight. Collin walked over to the desk and opened a drawer, then came back with a bottle and a familiar white cloth. Bill's eyes widened, and he shifted fruitlessly as Collin came closer, pouring the contents of the bottle onto the rag.

"Light's out, Dr. Masters," Collin whispered, his blue eyes flashing maliciously.

Bill squirmed and thrashed as the rag was pressed firmly against his face. His vision dimmed, his senses becoming foggy. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Collin's evil smile and cold, cruel eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Alec was in the bedroom, tossing and turning on the blankets. His nightmares were constant, never letting go. He gripped the sheets tightly in his fists, tears leaking from his eyes, down his cheeks and soaking into his beard. 

"Bill, please, no," he cried out. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Bill!"

The mattress creaked as Alec shifted around on it. He sobbed, tossing his head side to side on the pillow. A noise downstairs finally snapped him out of it. He sat up, breathing heavily. his skinny frame filmed in a cold sweat, his hair matted to his face, his T-shirt sticking to his skin. His face still ached from the fist fight with Owens. He ran his shaking hands through his hair. The noise downstairs happened again, a little louder.

"Hello?" Alec called out, his voice raspy. "Daisy?"

There was no answer. Alec left the bed and entered the hallway, looking around. He crept down the stairs, feeling a tad unsteady from the beer he'd finished off when he got home. He approached the living room, but there was nobody there. The noise happened again, in the kitchen, and just as Alec walked toward it, Bill appeared, smiling. Alec froze in his tracks.

"B-Bill?" he stammered. "W-what-H-how are you here?"

"What do you mean?" Bill asked, cocking his head to one side. "I live here. I just got off work. I didn't mean to wake you, love."

He stepped forward to hug and kiss Alec, but the Scotsman backed away a little, his face pale as snow. 

"N-no," Alec said. "Y-you were kidnapped. You're-you're dead."

"What?" Bill asked. "Alec, what are you talking about? I'm right here." He stepped closer, placing a hand on Alec's face. "That was just a bad dream, love."

Alec blinked and shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. Bill's hand felt solid and warm against his cheek. He reached out with his trembling left hand and touched Bill's face. He was real, and he kissed Alec's palm gently. The Scot let out a small sob and threw his arms around Bill, clinging to him like a life raft. Bill wrapped his arms around him, stroking his hair.

"Shh," he murmured in Alec's ear. "It's okay, Alec. I'm right here."

Alec cried into his neck before pulling away, touching Bill's face gently. His husband smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn't with his voice. It was Daisy's: "Dad, are you okay?"

Alec blinked and shook his head again. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the kitchen, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He caught sight of his reflection in the window above the sink. His eyes were bloodshot, the right one encircled by a deep purple bruise, dark circles making them look hollow. His skin was pale and pasty. His hair was messy and tangled. He turned around and found Daisy in the kitchen doorway, wearing a tank top and sleep pants. She was watching him with a worried, slightly scared look in her eyes. 

"Dad?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Alec licked his bloody lip and set the whiskey bottle on the table. "I-I'm not sure."

He looked around, his heart racing so fast he could feel it in his face. His ears were ringing, his hands trembling like leaves in a storm. He started to sweat profusely, and he began to hyperventilate. It felt like his lungs were being squeezed in a vise. His vision swam as dizziness overwhelmed him. Alec collapsed to the floor with a thud. Daisy shrieked and rushed over to him, tapping at his face urgently. 

"Dad?" she said. "Dad, wake up. Wake up, Dad, please!"

Her voice sounded faint and far away to Alec. His heart was pounding, pulsing in his ears. Daisy ran out of the room and grabbed the phone, quickly calling for help. Then she called Miller and her mother. The paramedics arrived and Daisy let them in, leading them to where Alec was unconscious on the kitchen floor. He hardly made a noise as they lifted him onto a gurney and brought him outside to load him up into the ambulance. Miller and Tess showed up just in time. Tess ran to Daisy and hugged her tightly.

"Daisy, what happened?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Daisy said. "I woke up because I heard voices. I found Dad in the kitchen, talking to himself."

"What was he saying?" Miller asked.

"It sounded like he was talking to Bill," Daisy answered. "He snapped out of out it when I asked if he was alright, but then he just fell."

Miller bit her lip and quickly got into the ambulance with Alec. Daisy and Tess got into Tess' car and followed the ambulance to the hospital. Miller sat inside the vehicle, watching the paramedics trying to keep Alec steady. He groaned as he was jostled on the gurney. He looked like hell. They arrived at the hospital and immediately brought him inside. Miller followed them as a team of doctors and nurses ran to meet them at the entrance.

"What do you got?" one doctor asked.

"Male, forty nine years old, collapsed at home after being found hallucinating in his kitchen," one of the paramedics answered. "Heart rate is 185 and rising, blood pressure 180/120. "

"He had pacemaker put in to help with his heart arrhythmia," Miller informed the doctor. "And he's been drinking nonstop the past four days and hasn't been eating or sleeping."

"We'll take care of your friend, ma'am," a nurse said.

Miller nodded as they took Alec into a room and lifted him from the gurney to the bed. They quickly hooked him up to monitors and an I.V. Suddenly, the monitor flat lined, the sound ominous and foreboding.

"He's crashing!" a nurse exclaimed.

"Get the paddles," a doctor ordered.

Daisy and Tess showed up just as they were shocking Alec. 

"Clear!" the doctor yelled. He placed the paddles on Alec's chest and shocked him. Alec's whole body jolted, but his heart didn't start.

"Again," the doctor ordered.

Tears streamed down Daisy's face as she hugged her mother, who was also crying. Miller was wringing her hands, tears in her eyes. She murmured 'please' over and over as the doctors continued to shock Alec. Finally, after five minutes and one final shock, Alec's heart started up again, the monitor beeping steadily. Miler, Daisy, and Tess all breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. One of the doctors came out into the hall with a grim expression on his face.

"Are any of you family?" he asked.

"I'm his ex-wife," Tess said. "His husband is...gone." 

"Is Alec okay?" Miller asked.

"We shocked his heart back to normal rhythm, but his brain was oxygen deprived for five minutes," the doctor explained slowly. "We won't know of there's any brain damage until he wakes up."

"What about his heart?" Daisy asked. "Is that okay too?"

"His arrhythmia has returned," the doctor answered. "His pacemaker is damaged, so we'll have to put in a new one once he's strong enough."

"When will he wake up?" Miller asked urgently.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know."

Daisy cried into her mother's shirt. Tess stroked her daughter's hair gently. Miller walked closer to the window of Alec's room and put a hand on the glass. The doctor and a nurse were hooking him up to tubes and another monitor. He looked even sicker than he did before his first pacemaker surgery.

"Hardy," Miller whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

When Bill regained consciousness, it was dark and he was being jostled around, his whole body throbbing with pain. He groaned and tried to move, but he was still bound and gagged. He was in the trunk of a car, his legs pushed up to his chest. If he wasn't so dehydrated, Bill might've been crying. He could't believe that it had come to this. Alec thought he was dead and would be forced to find his body on the beach. Bill whimpered and shifted around in the cramped space. 

'I'm sorry, Alec,' he thought. 'I'm so sorry.'

Bill focused on all the memories he'd shared with Alec-their two months of dating, their first time together, their marriage, their arguments. Everything. Alec had been the first and only bright spot in Bill's life for a long time after his divorce. He knew that he had pulled Alec out of a dark place too. He got him to eat, sleep, to take care of himself better. Surely that all couldn't just mean nothing? Bill wasn't much of a believer in faith or destiny. But something had brought him and Alec together. Bill growled, determination and defiance giving him new strength. He wasn't going to let Collin and Owens take that away. He would fight. He just had to wait for his chance. The car suddenly came to an abrupt stop, and Bill's head smacked against the wall.

'Those sons of bitches are going to get it,' he thought.

He heard the driver and passenger side doors open. Footsteps approached and the trunk opened. Bill winced at the harsh light and blinked the spots out of his eyes. Collin and Owens stood over him, the backdrop of a starry sky behind them. Collin's blue eyes glinted wickedly, and Owens had a thin smile on his lips. Bill glared at them the best he could. He jerked away when Collin reached out to pull him out of the trunk.

"Still a fighter even when he's on Death's fucking door," Collin said, amused.

Bill snorted behind the gag. Collin looked at Owens, and together the two grabbed Bill by the front of his soiled shirt and hauled him out of the trunk, tossing him roughly to the ground. Bill bit back a groan of pain. 

"Stand up," Collin ordered.

Bill slowly stood up. He was so weak and malnourished, his body still burning with fever. The cut on his bad leg was crusted with dried blood and pus. His wrists and hands felt stiff and wooden, and he could feel the cracked, damaged skin from the burns. They were at the beach. The ocean was calm and smooth as glass, the moon almost full. Cliffs in the distance cast ominous shadows across the sand. Bill shivered. 

"Start walking," Collin commanded. "We'll tell you when to stop."

When Bill didn't move right away, Owens smirked and lifted up his shirt. The handle of a knife flashed in the moonlight. Bill eyed it nervously and started walking, his legs like rubber. Owens and Collin walked right behind him, so he didn't try to run for it. Not yet anyway. Bill knew he needed to wait for an opening or create one himself. He focused on Alec, on seeing him again, holding him, kissing him. Bill kept walking unsteadily across the sand. Suddenly, his bad leg seized and he crumpled to the sand. Now was his chance. He closed his eyes and shivered.

"Oh, for God's sake, don't be dramatic," Collin griped. 

He snagged Bill's bound arms and tried to pull him up, but Bill went limp, like a child throwing a tantrum. He kept shaking and curled up on the sand. Collin cursed and turned to Owens.

"Help me with him," he ordered.

"Why don't we just kill him right here?" Owens asked. "Then we just drag his body to where we want it?"

"Because the cops will notice that," Collin snapped. "They could track us. Now help me get him up."

Owens grumbled and stepped forward to help. Collin's legs were closer to Bill so he seized his chance. He raised his head and smashed Collin in the groin. He swore and fell to the ground. Bill quickly got his feet again, his head spinning slightly. Owens cursed and drew his knife, the blade glinting in the darkness. He lunged at Bill, but the American kicked sand up into the air, and right into Owens' eyes.

"Fucking hell," he yelled, falling to his knees, rubbing at his eyes and dropping the knife.

Bill went for the knife and awkwardly took in his bound, burned hands. He angled it and carefully cut through the duct tape and rope on his wrists. Finally free, Bill ripped the gag from his mouth and coughed, taking in deep breaths. He looked at his hands. The skin of his wrists and palms were bloody and cracked, shiny with blisters. the flesh struggling to heal. Bill flexed his fingers a little. They ached and were stiff, but he could still move them. His victory was short-lived when Collin suddenly tackled him from behind.

"Get off me, you son of a bitch," Bill rasped, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, his throat so dry it felt like gravel.

They rolled across the sand until Collin was straddling Bill. He held the knife in his hand and brought it downward. Bill blindly reached out across the ground. His hand closed around something cold and rough. He tightened his grip on it and smashed Collin's head with it. There was a sickening crunch as the rock hit Collin's head. Blood gushed from the gash above his left eyebrow, and he swore again.

"Fucking Hell!" he yelled. 

Bill shoved Collin's chest and sent him on his back into the sand, then scrambled to his feet again, panting, his heart pounding. He attempted to run, but his leg cramped up again and he fell. He tried to stand up, but a swift kick to his ribs sent him back to the ground. Bill rolled over, gasping for air. Owens stood over him, his eyes red and watery. He was holding his knife again. 

"Fucking die already," he snarled, bringing the knife down.

Bill quickly rolled out of the way and tried to run, but Owens grabbed him from behind, and Bill felt a horrible, piercing pain erupt in his left leg. He screamed and fell to the ground, feeling blood spilling down his leg. He elbowed Owens in his nose, then punched him the stomach. When he fell to the ground, Bill grabbed another rock and hit him in the head, knocking him out cold. Bill addressed his leg. The knife was stuck deep inside his right leg, the blade having torn cleanly through muscle and ligaments, bleeding profusely. 

"Fuck," Bill cursed. He nudged the knife handle and hissed. "Fuck, fuck, okay, alright. What do I do first?"

He knew that even if he left the knife in or took it out, he would most likely continue to bleed out. But if he could stop the bleeding and stitch up the wound, he'd be fine. Bill took a deep breath and stood up, holding back a scream as he limped toward the car Owens and Collin had been driving. The keys were still in the ignition, and Bill wasted no time starting it and driving away. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he forced himself to focus on the road and not on the pain. A few minutes on the road, Bill found a gas station, still lit up. He quickly pulled over and limped out of the car, toward the door.

"Help me please," he called out. "I need help, please I'm bleeding!"

There was nobody in the store, and Bill began to get desperate. He didn't want to steal from the store, but he didn't see any choice. He pushed the door open and began gathering supplies-thread, scissors, painkillers, gauze, tape, water, disinfectant, and a paperclip to use as a needle. Bill left the store and got back into the car, dumping his supplies into the passenger seat. He turned on the lights and assessed the wound. The bleeding had stop, but the knife needed to come out. Bill opened the bottle of painkiller swallowed four of them dry, then took a deep breath and gripped the knife firmly, taking a deep breath.

"This is gonna hurt," he muttered.

He mentally counted to three, but pulled it out on two. He threw his head back and screamed, digging his nails into the leather seat. The wound luckily didn't start bleeding again, so Bill sighed and tossed the knife aside. He picked up the thread, the scissors, and the paperclip, washing them in water. He guided the thread through the paperclip, and began to stitch his own wound. He hissed and groaned as the flesh was pulled, but kept going until the wound was fully closed. He used the scissors to cut the excess thread, then slathered the cut in the disinfectant gel, uncaring about the pain. He taped the gauze over it carefully, feeling the meds beginning to kick in. Finally, after twenty grueling minutes, Bill sighed and tilted his head back against the car seat, utterly exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up and go to sleep, but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway.

"Alec," Bill whispered. "I'm on my way, Alec."

He started the car again and drove to the house. That was his only focus now: getting home to Alec, letting him know that his husband was alive. Bill reached the house after nearly thirty minutes of driving. The lights were all off, and Alec's car was still in the driveway. Bill parked and slowly exited the car, limping as to not pull his new stitches. He walked up the porch steps and found the front door unlocked. Bill frowned. That was odd. He entered the house and found it dark and quiet. Too quiet.

"Alec?" Bill called out hesitantly. 

There was no answer. Bill's heart began to race again as he walked further into the house. The kitchen looked remarkably unused, save for the half-full bottle of whiskey on the table and the empty beer bottles in the trash. Alec really had been drinking excessively in Bill's absence. The doctor bit his lower lip and started toward the stairs. Just then, though, he heard the front door open again and the sound of a gun cocking. 

"Freeze!" a woman's voice shouted. "Put your hands where I can see them!"

Bill instantly obeyed, hands shaking. The woman slowly approached him.

"Turn around and put your hands on your head," she ordered. "Interlace your fingers."

Bill obeyed again and turned around carefully, wincing as his stitches twinged. The woman shone a flashlight as his face, momentarily blinding him. She gasped.

"Bill?" she asked.

That voice. Bill would know it anywhere. He shielded his eyes from the light and looked at the woman, then blinked. 

"Ellie?" he asked.

The two stared at each for a good five minutes, before Ellie rushed forward and embraced Bill tightly. He hugged her back, feeling tears in his eyes.

"You're alive, Bill," she whispered. "You are alive." She pulled back to steady his face, and her eyes deepened with worry. "You look like shit, though. Where the hell have you been?"

"It's a long, painful story," Bill answered. "I'll tell you later, I promise. Where's Alec?"

Ellie's face fell, and she bit her lip. Bill felt fear and dread fill the pit of his stomach. 

"Ellie?" he asked.

"Alec's in the hospital," she answered. "He's in a coma."


	13. Chapter 13

Bill sat by Alec's bedside, holding his hand. He was hooked up to an I.V. and a heart monitor, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He looked frail and ill, his eyes shadowed, the right one encircled by a purple bruise. His beard had grown out, thicker than Bill had ever seen it, and his hair was disheveled. His chest rose and fell, but his breathing was shallow. Bill hated him seeing him like this.

"The doctor says he'll perform the surgery for the new pacemaker when Alec wakes up," Ellie said. 

"Does he have any idea when that will be?" Bill asked, turning in his chair to face her.

She shook her head. Bill sighed and rubbed his bandaged leg. It was early in the morning, Sunday and Bill had been at the hospital all night. After he and Ellie had reunited at the house, she drove him straight there, while he told her what had happened to him. She'd cursed loudly when he told that Owens had been part of it.

"That son of a bitch," Ellie had growled. "I should've known something was off about him."

"It's not your fault," Bill had reassured her. "Owens had everyone fooled."

Once they'd arrived at the hospital, Bill had immediately tried to go see Alec, but Ellie had stopped him. 

"You need to be looked over," she'd told him firmly. "You're dehydrated, malnourished, and that cut and your hands need to be checked."

"I need to Alec," Bill had replied. "Please."

"You can see him after the doctor looks you over," Ellie had promised. 

Bill reluctantly agreed. The doctor looked him over for two hours, performing numerous tests, cleaning and bandaging the infected cut on his leg, checking the stitches on his right leg, cleaning the burns on his hands, and giving him fluids and liquid nutrients. Bill had been monitored closely while he was given the fluids, and was only allowed to leave to see Alec if he complied and used his crutches to get around so he wouldn't open his stitches. They itched like crazy under the gauze, but Bill had plenty to distract himself from the itching. Like worrying about Alec. When would he wake up? Was he strong enough to go through another pacemaker surgery? 

"Bill?" Ellie asked, bringing him back to the room.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing a hand across his face. "Zoned out for a minute."

"It's okay," Ellie replied. "I just wanted to tell you that Owens and Collin were found on the beach this morning."

Bill tensed at hearing their names. "Were they alive?"

"Yes, amazingly," Ellie answered bitterly, crossing her arms. "They were arrested and are both in jail, awaiting their trials."

Bill shook his head and snorted. Those bastards didn't deserve trials. They deserved death for all the pain they had caused to Alec. Bill ran a hand through his hair, gripping Alec's hand more tightly in his.

"Will I have to testify at their trial?" he asked.

"No," Ellie said. "All we need is your statement and have you identify them in a line-up. Once that happens, they'll both be appointed a lawyer, but the odds are really high that they'll both get sentenced to life in prison."

"Good," Bill muttered.

He sighed and looked at Alec, wising he could see those brown eyes open. He kissed the back of his husband's hand, stroked his knuckles. He felt so guilty about this.

"You can't blame yourself," Ellie said, as if reading Bill's thoughts. "This isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is, in a way," Bill responded. "If I had paid better attention to Collin, or 'Mr. Ellison', I could've prevented him kidnapping me, and Alec wouldn't be here right now."

"Bill, you had no idea," Ellie said, trying to comfort him. "Collin disguised himself and repainted that car he stole. He was right under our noses but none of us caught it."

Bill didn't respond. Ellie sighed and tried again. 

"If you're looking for someone to blame, blame me," she said.

Bill looked at her, surprised. "Why?"

"I worked with Owens," Ellie answered, sounding angry. "They put him in charge of looking for you but I could tell he didn't take it seriously. I reviewed his work and he didn't even look for you, never interviewed anybody, but he'd been feeding information to Collin the whole time." Her voice cracked suddenly. "And I should've watched over Alec better, too. I should've stayed with him or tried to talk with him, but when the search for you was called off, he just crumbled apart, started drinking and not eating or sleeping. And when Jenkinson put him on leave after his fight with Owens, he fell apart even more."

Ellie dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. Bill reached over with his other bandaged hand and touched her arm.

"You looked after him the best you could," he told her gently. "I know you did."

She managed a watery smile, then cleared her throat. "I'm gonna go get a coffee. Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks," Bill said.

Ellie gathered her purse and left the room. Bill faced Alec again, studied him. The room was quiet save for the beeping of the monitor and Alec's raspy breathing. The sun was shining behind the thin curtains, casting beams across the tile floor. Bill shifted in his chair, rubbing at his leg. He'd seen lots of people spend time with loved ones in comas. but never thought he himself would go through it. He'd told people that their loved ones could hear them while in a coma, but he wasn't entirely sure he believed it. But now, sitting in that room with Alec looking so sick and weak, Bill figured it was worth a shot.

"Alec, love," he said, gripping his husband's hand, "I-I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm here. I'm alive. I was kidnapped by Collin, you know, the Broadchurch Butcher from a year ago. He kidnapped me to hurt you, and Owens was in on it." Bill licked his lips and continued. "I'm sorry for what I put you through, Alec. I'm so sorry. I thought about you the whole time I was captured, and all I could think about was getting back to you." Bill leaned over and kissed Alec's forehead gently, stroking his messy hair. "I love you, Alec Hardy. I love you so much. Please wake up, Alec, please. Let me see your eyes open. Please wake-"

Bill stopped, looking down at his and Alec's joined hands. He thought he'd felt Alec squeeze it. He looked back at Alec.

"Alec, can you hear me?" Bill asked.

There was no answer, but Alec's eyelids twitched. Bill shifted in his chair, getting closer to Alec's bed.

"Alec, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand," Bill said. 

He looked down at their hands, holding his breath. Alec's fingers twitched, and he squeezed Bill's hand. Bill exhaled in relief, bringing Alec's hand to his lips. Alec's eyelids twitched again, and his eyes slowly opened, big and brown but tired. Bill felt tears welling up in his eyes as he leaned in closer. Alec's lips moved behind the oxygen mask, but no sound came out. He grumbled and irritably pulled it off and sat up a little.

"Alec, stop," Bill protested, placing a hand on his chest. "You're just waking up from a coma and you need to-" Bill stopped as Alec touched his face with both hands, gently, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Bill?" he croaked. "Is it really you?"

"It's really me," Bill clarified, caressing Alec's bearded cheek. "I'm right here, love."

Alec's eyes scanned him all over, his hands still cupping Bill's face. He let out a low sob and pulled Bill into a hug, crying into his shoulder. Bill wrapped his arms around his husband, rubbing circles into his back and stroking his hair. They each other tightly for a long time, until Bill slowly pulled back a little, pressing their foreheads together. 

"I thought I'd lost you," Alec whispered. 

"Never," Bill promised. "You'll never lose me, Alec. Ever."

Alec smiled a little, and Bill kissed him. It felt like years had passed since they'd last kissed. Alec's lips were dry but still warm and familiar against Bill's own. Their moment was only interrupted by the arrival of Ellie and Alec's doctor, Greg Cassidy. They both stopped in the doorway, shocked. Bill and Alec pulled away, but only a little. 

"Well, someone bounces back fast," Dr. Cassidy said. "How do you feel, Alec?"

"Tired," Alec admitted. "And I feel kind of off."

"That's the medicine wearing off," Dr. Cassidy explained. "Do you remember what happened?"

Alec's brow furrowed. "I was in my kitchen, hallucinating and drinking. After my daughter snapped me out of it, my heart starting racing and I felt really dizzy. I was sweating and couldn't catch my breath. The last thing I remember was looking at Daisy before I passed out."

"You had a panic attack," Dr. Cassidy explained. "You were hallucinating from sleep deprivation. The alcohol probably didn't help either, and your arrhythmia has returned because your pacemaker was damaged. Tomorrow we'll schedule surgery to put in a new one, but for now, all you have to do is rest."

Alec nodded, and the doctor walked out of the room, Ellie smiled and came over to the bed. Alec smiled at her.

"No grapes this time?" he asked.

Ellie laughed. "Shut up, Hardy." She smiled at him. "I'm glad you're awake."

"So am I," Alec replied.

Ellie looked at Bill, gripped his shoulder, then left the room again. Alec yawned and scratched at his beard. 

"You should rest," Bill told him. 

"I know," Alec replied. 

He laid back against his pillows, sighing. Bill took his hand again and stroked his hair. 

"Go to sleep, love," he said softly. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

Alec nodded and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing evened out, smoother than it had been before. Bill kissed his husband's forehead, and kept watch over him as he slept.


	14. Chapter 14

Alec woke to the sound of Bill cursing. He grumbled as he tried to open his eyes, the lights of his hospital room making him wince. Alec shook his head a little to clear the spots from his vision, then blinked to let the room come into focus. He was in bed again, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, a fresh bandage on his chest. He turned his head a little and saw Bill standing at the window, supporting himself with crutches. He wore a button-down shirt and pants, the right leg rolled up to let his bandages breathe. Miller stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Bill cursed again.

"I can't fucking believe these," he snarled, stalking away from the window. "That fucking coward."

"Bill, calm down and stop pacing," Miller said. "You could open your stitches."

Bill snorted and faced the window again. What had them so upset? Alec shifted in bed a little, then cleared his throat and tried to speak.

"Hey," he croaked. "What's going on?"

Bill and Miller turned toward him in unison. Bill smiled and made his way over to the bed, propping his crutches against the wall. He leaned down and kissed Alec's forehead and stroked his hair.

"Hey," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Groggy, but I'm alright," Alec replied, shaking off the remnants of the anesthesia. He looked up at Bill and reached a hand out, smoothing away the worry lines creasing his brow. "What's going on, love? You look upset."

Bill sighed and looked over at Miller. Alec followed his gaze and arched an eyebrow at her. She sighed and stepped further into the room.

"Collin was found dead in his holding cell this morning," she said. "He hung himself."

Alec raised both his eyebrows at that while Bill muttered something under his breath. His face was anger, so Alec squeezed his hand.

"He didn't deserve a trial," he told Bill. "He didn't deserve one a year ago, and he didn't deserve one now. At least now he can't hurt anyone ever again."

"I guess," Bill said, relaxing a little. He looked at Miller. "Is Owens still alive?"

"Unfortunately," Miller muttered.

Alec's brow furrowed in confusion and he looked at Bill questioningly. What did Owens have to do with anything? Bill sighed and squeezed Alec's hand.

"Owens, the detective put in charge of looking for me, was working with Collin," he explained. "He'd been feeding Collin information the whole time, helped clean up any evidence he might've left behind, and he helped Collin try to kill me."

"That son of a bitch," Alec snarled. "Now I don't feel bad about beating the crap out of him."

"Did you ever feel bad about it?" Miller asked.

"No," Alec admitted. "But now I really don't feel bad about it."

Bill laughed and so did Miller. Alec smiled behind his mask. Dr. Cassidy arrived and entered the room, holding a file in his hand. 

"Welcome back, Hardy," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but I'm alright," Alec answered.

"That's good," Dr. Cassidy said. "The surgery went very well. We'll keep you here another day for observation to make sure the pacemaker is functioning properly. If it is, you'll be discharged tomorrow afternoon."

"Great," Alec said. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome," Dr. Cassidy replied.

He reached into his pocket and removed a prescription bottle of pills. He set them on the table beside the flowers from Tess and Daisy. 

"What are those?" Alec asked.

"Your new meds," Dr. Cassidy explained. "After you're discharged, take two pills twice a day, and that should help your heart adjust to the new pacemaker. You'll also be given a scrip for pain medication. For now, though, all you have to do is rest."

"Thanks, Doc," Alec said. "For everything."

Cassidy nodded and left the room again. Miller checked her watch.

"I should be heading back to the station," she said. "I'll come by again later, yeah?"

"Yeah, thanks, Miller," Alec said. 

"See you later, Ellie," Bill told her. "Thank you."

She smiled at them and left the room. Bill and Alec were finally alone together. Bill sat down in a chair beside Alec's bed and rubbed his bandaged leg.

"How's your leg?" Alec asked.

"Itchy," Bill answered. "But as I long as I keep distracted I don't really feel it."

Alec nodded and tilted his head back, staring up at the dull hospital ceiling. Something was bothering him, had been bothering since he'd woken up from the coma the previous day. Bill must have sensed his troubled thoughts, because he stroked Alec's knuckles gently.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?" Alec said, looking at his husband.

"The look you get when your thinking about something that's bothering you," Bill answered. 

Alec managed a smile, but it felt strained. He sighed and scratched at his beard, wishing he could shave it.

"I keep thinking that it's my fault you were kidnapped," he told Bill. "I should've kept a better eye on Owens, I should've looked for you myself, but I didn't. Instead I nearly drink myself to death and end up in the hospital." His voice cracked, heavy with guilt. "I failed you, Bill."

"Hey, hey, don't say that," Bill soothed, stroking Alec's cheek, wiping away the tears beginning to fall. "This isn't your fault, Alec."

"Yes, it is," Alec sniffled. "I knew something was off about the way you disappeared, but it never crossed my mind that it could be Collin. I didn't even know he was out of jail, but I should've. I shouldn't have fallen apart like that, but I just...." He trailed off and looked away from Bill, ashamed.

"Alec. Look at me," Bill murmured. "Look at me, please."

Reluctantly, Alec obeyed, sad brown eyes meeting gentle blue ones. Bill took Alec's hand again, interlacing their fingers and stroked his husband's hair.

"None of this is your fault, Alec," Bill told him firmly. "Collin disguised himself and Owens helped him hide. They had everyone fooled. This is their fault. Theirs. Not yours."

Alec's eyes welled with new tears. He removed his oxygen mask and pulled Bill into a kiss. The American sighed into the kiss, cupping his husband's bearded cheek. Alec gripped Bill's wrist, keeping him close. When they eventually pulled away, Bill pressed their foreheads together. His eyes were lined with deep, dark circles, and Alec could feel stubble under his fingers as he stroked his husband's jaw. 

"You look tired," he said. 

"I know," Bill replied. "I keep trying to sleep in that cot." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, at the cot set up on the floor by the window. "But it's hard to."

"Because of your leg?" Alec asked.

"That, and because I'm so used to sleeping next to you," Bill admitted. "When I'm not, sleep is...difficult. Impossible, even."

Alec grinned at that. He looked down at the bed. It was big enough for the both of them, especially now that Alec wasn't hooked up to as many things like when he was in the coma. He shifted around on the bed, then pulled the blanket back.

"Get in, Masters," he said.

Bill smiled and eased himself up onto the bed, laying down beside Alec, throwing an arm and a leg over him, keeping as close as possible. Alec pulled the blanket over them again, and Bill sighed against his neck.

"This is better," he said. 

"Much better," Alec agreed. He kissed Bill again. "Get some sleep, love."

Bill nodded and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for his breathing to even out, tickling Alec's ear. He looked relaxed for the first time in many weeks. Alec kissed his husband's forehead, stroked his hair gently. He looked over at the flowers from Tess and Daisy-lilies, like what Alec and Bill had pinned to their tuxes when they got married. Alec smiled and reached out to caress the delicate petals, then closed his eyes and joined Bill in sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the delay! I have just been so tired and stressed out the past few weeks that I just crumpled apart, a little. But I'm better now!

Bill grunted with effort as he tried to support himself on the railing. His hands gripped it tightly, knuckles white. He took one more tentative step forward with his right leg before nearly crumpling to the ground. He panted, his hair sticking to his face as he caught his breath.

“I’m done,” he announced, looking up at the nurse standing nearby, watching him closely. “I can’t do anymore. I need a break.”

“Alright,” the nurse replied. “You did very well today, Dr. Masters.”

Bill held down a scoff as he grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to sit down in a nearby chair. He was in the physical therapy room at the hospital, trying to get used to walking without his crutches, but it was very difficult. The damage done to the ligaments in his legs from the cut and the stab wound had been more serious than he’d thought. Several of them of been torn and severed beyond repair and had been removed then replaced, while others had been grafted together. 

“The surgery went very well, Bill,” Dr. Cassidy had said when he’d first woken up, in a room next to Alec’s. “You’ll begin physical therapy in a few days, and once you’ve been discharged we’ll give a regiment to follow as well, along with some pain meds.”

“Thank you, Dr. Cassidy,” Bill had replied, still slightly groggy from the medicine.

Both he and Alec had been in the hospital for two weeks, both having undergone surgeries. Alec’s new pacemaker was functioning well, and he showed no signs of brain damage from the coma he’d been in. Bill himself was recovering well too, but he was frustrated at his struggle with walking. He could barely walk without either his crutches or some other support, and the stitches were close to driving him insane from the itching. But more than anything, he hated being weak, being sidelined. He needed to be able to look after Alec once they were discharged. How the hell was he supposed to do that when he could hardly walk?

“Damn you, Collin and Owens,” Bill muttered, wiping his brow.

He’d be lying if he said that he felt bad that Collin was dead. Owens, unfortunately, was still alive and was set to appear in court in a few days. Bill had given a verbal statement to the police and had identified him in a photo lineup. Ellie had assured him that with all the evidence against him, Owens was bound to get life without parole. Bill hoped so. He was so deep in thought that he jumped when the door opened again and Ellie entered the room.

“Hey, Bill,” she said. “You alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Bill replied. ‘Just taking a break from the physio.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his bandaged right leg. “My legs are killing me.”

“They’ll get better,” Ellie told him encouragingly. “You just have to be patient.”

Bill snorted and stood up, supporting himself with the crutches. “I’m starting to hate that word.”

“Guess it’s true what they say,” Ellie said, clicking her tongue. “Doctors do make the worst patients.”

Bill managed a smile. Ellie smiled back. She had been at the hospital almost constantly, checking in on both him and Alec. Bill didn’t know how to thank for all she had done and had been doing during this time. 

“I came to check on you and because Alec wants you,” she informed him. “Said he wanted to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” Bill asked.

Ellie shook her head. Bill raised his eyebrows and exited the room. Ellie followed, keeping pace with him, being careful not to walk too far ahead of him. Bill appreciated the gesture. They walked down the long hospital corridors toward the ICU, where Alec was still being held. They reached his room and entered. Alec was sitting up in bed, looking healthier than he’d looked during the past two weeks, his eyes brighter, his color better. He’d even had the strength to shave and was now clean-shaven for the first time.

“There you are,” he smiled when he saw Bill. “How was physio?”

“Tiring,” Bill replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Alec answered. “Of being in this place.”

Bill laughed and sat down on the edge of Alec’s bed. Ellie smiled when Alec nodded to her and left the room. Once they were alone, Alec reached over and pulled Bill into a kiss. The doctor sighed against his husband’s lips, stroking his cheek gently. When they separated, Alec placed his hand on Bill’s leg, rubbing the bandages there.

“How are your legs?” he asked.

“Sore,” Bill admitted. “Itchy. I keep trying in the physio but I just can’t….support myself without help. I feel like I’m just grasping at straws here.”

“I know,” Alec said quietly. “That’s part of why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what?” Bill asked, tilting his head to one side.

Alec ran a hand through his tousled hair, then across his jaw. His face had healed from the beating he and Owens had gotten into, but Bill was secretly proud of his husband for doing so. Even though it had cost him his job.

“I got my job back,” Alec said after a minute. “Or at least, I will once I’ve recovered.”

“Really?” Bill asked, shocked. “When did that happen?”

“While you were gone,” Alec explained. “Chief came by and said that I can come back once I’m better. And she apologized for not being aware of Owens.”

“Wow,” Bill said. “Alec, that’s great.” He studied his husband. ‘But you don’t seem happy about it.”

“I am,” Alec replied, rubbing his neck. ‘I just…..don’t think I should be jumping back into work so soon after all this. And neither should you. At least until you can walk properly, that it is.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Bill agreed. “We have been through a lot.”

“Exactly,” Alec said. “So I was thinking that maybe, once we’re discharged, we can both take some time off, just stay home with each other.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Bill told Alec with a smile. “I could use some time with just you and nobody else.”

Alec grinned and kissed him again. Bill didn’t remember the last time either of them had taken a vacation. Not at least since they’d been married. A vacation was definitely long overdue. 

‘Just a shame it took a kidnapping and near-death experiences to make us realize it,’ Bill thought morosely. 

That evening, Dr. Cassidy came to the room and told them that they could be discharged in the morning. Bill and Alec both rejoiced at that. Bill missed being able to sleep in their bed while holding Alec close, and he missed their home in general. He hadn't been there since he'd returned from being kidnapped. With Ellie's help, Bill packed up the things she'd brought to him during his stay at the hospital, then changed into his nightclothes of a white T-shirt and boxers and crawled into Alec's hospital bed, cuddling against his chest. Alec put his arms around him, keeping as close as possible.

"We finally get to go home tomorrow," he whispered. 

"I know," Bill replied. "I've missed our home." He shifted, pressed even closer to Alec, nuzzling his neck. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Bill," Alec responded, voice cracking a little. 

Bill kissed him then, silencing his fears and calming his anxiety. He was pretty sure he knew that Alec had a deeper reason for wanting a vacation. They hadn't had proper alone time together since before Bill's kidnapping. Alec wanted-needed-reassurance that Bill really was back and alive. And Bill just needed his husband, needed to smell his familiar scent, to look into those big brown, doe eyes and feel well and truly like he was home.


	16. Chapter 16

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Alec said, running a hand through his hair. "Do you really want to go?"

The question was directed at Bill, who was standing with his back to Alec, still supporting himself with a crutch under each arm. They were in Alec's hospital room, preparing for their discharge and their vacation. But first, Bill had insisted that they go to Owens' court hearing. Alec was concerned about how his husband would react at seeing his tormentor in person for the first time since his kidnapping. Surely that couldn't be good for him, as he was still healing emotionally as well as physically. 

"I'll be fine, Alec," Bill said, turning to face his husband determinedly. "Collin may have escaped going to jail, and I want to be there to make sure Owens does go to prison."

His eyes held such a fierce gleam of anger and defiance that Alec knew there was no arguing with him. And in all honesty, Alec wanted to be there to. He always made sure to be present whenever a suspect was in court. And in the case of Owens, he was especially keen to see him pay the price for what he had done to Bill. Alec sighed and stood up from his bed, coming over to stand closer to Bill and put his arms around him. The Scotsman had recovered well from his second pacemaker surgery, but it was his husband that he was more concerned about. Bill had been through his own special Hell at the twisted hands of Collin and Owens. His legs were getting better, but he still couldn't support himself on his own. His hands had healed from the burns, but the damage done to the nerves had left him with shakes and stiffness sometimes.

"I'll call Miller and have her drive us to the courthouse when his sentencing starts," Alec told Bill. "Then we'll go home, yeah?"

"Alright," Bill replied with a smile.

That was another thing. His smiles after his kidnapping and torture had been strained, not extending to his eyes. Now, though, after weeks of being in the hospital, they were more genuine. And he was laughing more. All good signs, Alec hoped. Bill's watch alarm beeped and he sighed as he checked it.

"I have to head to physio," he said. "You'll be okay while I'm gone, right?"

"Yeah," Alec answered. "Unless you want me to come with you."

Bill was already heading toward the door when he tensed and stopped. His answer was clipped, his eyes low. "No, thanks. I'll be alright."

He left the room without another word. Alec sighed again and sat down on the bed, resting his chin in his hands. He always asked Bill if he could come with him to physical therapy, but the answer was always the same curt, "No." At first Alec had been a little hurt by the rejection, until he realized that Bill wasn't turning him away out of malice. It was embarrassment. Bill was doctor, a man of pride and principle. He fixed illness and broken things. He didn't like being or looking weak. He loathed it, even. There had been a few occasions in which he'd fallen ill and had attempted to hide it from Alec. But Alec was detective. It was his job to notice things that others would miss or overlook. He liked taking care of Bill, like he always cared for Alec.

'Now he needs me more than ever,' Alec thought. 

He twisted the gold wedding band on his left ring finger before picking up his phone and calling Miller. As soon he told her that Bill wanted to come to Owens' sentencing, she had the same reaction that Alec had.

"Is that really a good idea?" she asked. "I don't think he's ready for that."

"I know, but I can't convince him to back down," Alec replied, rubbing his neck. "And I think maybe it might give him closure, seeing Owens go to jail and know that he can't hurt anyone ever again."

"Okay," Miller relented. "Owens' sentencing is at noon. I'll come get you guys in fifteen minutes."

"Great," Alec said. "Thanks, Miller."

He hung up and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he started getting ready to leave. He took a shower in the doctor's lounge with Dr. Cassidy's permission, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, then got dressed in some of the clothes Tess had brought to him. Bill returned from physio a little while later, looking tired and frustrated. He changed his clothes and rinsed his face and hair off in the sink. Alec caught a glimpse of his bandaged legs as he helped Bill get dressed. The American had to lean against his husband's slender frame in the process, and Alec could feel him blushing through the fabric of his shirt.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he told Bill quietly, stroking his face. "Not with me."

"I know," Bill murmured back, kissing Alec on the lips. "I'm sorry."

Alec smiled gently at and kissed him again. They gathered their things and went outside to wait for Miller, who showed up just as they were exiting the hospital. 

"You guys look better," she said as she got out of the car. "How are your legs, Bill?"

"Sore," Bill replied flatly.

Miller obviously heard the anger in his voice, so she directed her attention to Alec. "How are you feeling?"

Alec shrugged. "Better than I felt after the first surgery."

She smiled and nodded, then opened the right backseat door. Bill got in first, placing his crutches on the floor as Alec slid in next to him. They drove to the courthouse in silence. It wasn't long before they were inside the crowded courtroom, waiting for the judge overseeing the sentencing to arrive. Owens was nowhere to be seen yet. Alec stole a glance at Bill, sitting beside him. He was sitting up straight, his hands folded together on his lap. His eyes were on the floor. A door suddenly opened as the judge arrived. The jurors and everybody in the room stood up, even Bill. Once they were seated, the judge banged his gavel.

"Please bring in the defendant," he announced.

Another door opened and two uniformed officers entered the room, Owens standing between them, wearing an orange jumpsuit. His wrists and ankles were shackled, clinking ominously in the silence as he was brought before the judge. His hair was disheveled, his jaw covered in a thick blanket of stubble. Beside him, Alec heard Bill inhale sharply. He looked over at him. Bill was staring at Owens' back, one hand rubbing his right leg, right where he'd been stabbed. His other hand was resting on the bench beside him, shaking like a leaf. His breathing sounded wheezy and labored. Alec reached over and took his husband's shaking hand in his steady one, interlacing their fingers. He could feel how hard Bill's heart was racing. Was he having a panic attack?

"Breathe, love," Alec whispered in Bill's ear. "Hold my hand."

Bill nodded, squeezing Alec's hand so hard it almost hurt, trying to steady his breathing. Miller looked over at them, asking a question with her eyes: 'Is he alright?' 

Alec's eyes held the answer: 'I don't know.'

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

"We have, Your Honor," one of the jurors, a woman, replied, standing up. 

She handed the verdict to a clerk, who brought it over to the judge. Bill squeezed Alec's hand impossibly tighter. Alec squeezed back. The judge scanned the verdict carefully before lowering it and speaking, his voice crisp and clear as he delivered.

"In the case of Broadchurch vs Owens, the jury find the defendant, James Mitchell Owens, guilty of the attempted murder, kidnapping, and torture of Dr. William Masters. You are hereby sentenced to life in prison, and may God have mercy on your soul."

The courtroom burst into chaos, cheers and applause echoing through the air. Alec pulled Bill into a hug, feeling his husband cling to him like a magnet, his tears soaking into Alec's shirt and jacket. As they embraced, Alec caught sight of Owens being led out of the room amid a flurry of camera flashes. His eyes met Alec's for a split second. The bastard even had the nerve to smirk, and suddenly, all Alec wanted to do was march across the courtroom and knock out his teeth. Instead, he felt Bill's hand reaching up to stroke his face. Alec looked into his husband's blue eyes, filled with tears and relief. 

"He can't hurt anymore, love," Alec told him. "Never again."

"I know," Bill replied, his voice sounding fragile, anxiety still coursing through him. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah," Alec agreed, pressing his forehead to Bill's. "Yeah, let's go home."


	17. Chapter 17

The pain woke Bill from his peaceful sleep. He grunted and opened his eyes slowly, blinking blearily as he raised his head from Alec's chest. The Scotsman was still asleep, one arm tucked under his head, the other draped across Bill's back. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, his lips parted slightly as he snored softly. The house and the world had a hushed, hold-your-breath feeling to it, making Bill think it was the early morning. He reluctantly sat up and pushed the blanket off his body, rubbing at his right leg, still bound in gauze, the stitches itching like mad, the pain like hot wires were being pushed into Bill's flesh. He took a deep breath and reached for his crutches, putting them under each arm and slowly eased himself up off the couch, barely managing to hold back a hiss.

"Come on, Masters," he muttered to himself. 

He tucked the blanket around Alec, then limped his way toward the kitchen, shooting a resentful glance at the stairs. He wasn't able to go up them just yet, and he didn't want Alec to strain himself to help him up there unless he needed to, so the two of them had been camping out downstairs in the living room for the past few days after their discharge. It wasn't the first time they had spent nights on the couch together, and Bill did enjoy the closeness that came with it. He reached the kitchen and grabbed his bottle of pain meds from the hospital off the table, tapping out some into his palm. He swallowed them down with a swig of water from the tap, pretending not to see the slight tremor that ran through his hand, making it tremble. The flesh of both his hands was still faintly scarred from the burns, but Bill was more concerned about the internal damage, the nerves and muscles that had been seared to a crisp. 

"The stiffness will go away with time," Dr. Cassidy had told him. "But with the extent of damage done to your nerves, the shaking might never go away."

Bill remembered the dread he'd felt when he heard that. He still felt it now, or every time his hands shook or trembled in the slightest way. He was a doctor. His hands were his livelihood. He used them to save lives, but if the shaking never went away, he could very likely kill somebody, thus be sued for malpractice and lose his medical license. That thought made Bill sick to his stomach, and his hands shook even more. He growled and clenched them into fists so tight his knuckles went white.

He sat down in a chair at the table and stretched his leg out on another one, hissing in pain as he did. He rubbed the wounded area gently with his hands, kneading in the hopes to ease the pain. He wondered about the scar that would leave once the stitches dissolved.

"The wound was deep," Dr. Cassidy had said. "And the damaged ligaments and tendons we repaired will heal more slowly than the flesh itself, but they will heal. You just have to be patient."

Bill snorted at the memory. He'd been telling people that almost his whole career. Now he was on the receiving end of it, and it made him angry. He hated the pitiful looks he'd received at the hospital, the overly saccharine apologies that weren't really meant to make him feel better. He hated Owens for doing this to him in the first place. Even though he'd been sent to jail, Bill still thought about him, his cruel eyes and malicious smile, the feeling of the cold steel of the knife in his leg. Bill felt his heart beginning to race, pounding against his ribcage, in pulsing in his ears. The pain in his leg suddenly intensified, like he was being stabbed all over again. Breathing quickly, Bill closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, which were shaking like crazy. Sweat soaked his shirt, sticking it to his skin. He felt like he couldn't breathe. 

"Hey, hey." Alec's soothing voice broke through Bill's veil of panic. "Relax, breathe. Everything's alright. I'm here."

Gentle hands gripped Bill's shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. Bill wrapped his arms around Alec's warm, slender frame, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Alec rubbed his back with one hand and cupped the back of his husband's head with the other, stroking his hair. Bill's breath was hot against Alec's skin, tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing. His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat, his chest feeling tight. Alec kissed Bill's temple, his cheek.

"Breathe, love, breathe," he whispered in Bill's ear. "It's alright, just relax. Focus on something else. It's gonna be okay, love."

Bill's panic attack lasted for a few more minutes before, finally, his heartbeat slowed and his breathing normalized. He didn't let go of Alec right away, instead choosing to revel in his husband's warmth. Alec held him carefully, like he was fragile as glass or a priceless heirloom. Eventually, Bill pulled away and wiped away the leftover tears in his eyes, feeling embarrassed, his face and neck flushing. He was reluctant to look Alec in the eyes. 

"Bill, look at me," Alec whispered. "Please look at me."

Bill slowly pulled his face up from from the floor and looked into his husband's big brown eyes. They were soft and gentle, his lips pulled into a slight frown, his brow furrowed with worry. He reached out and very gently stroked the side of Bill's face. Bill sighed and leaned into the touch, reaching up to grip Alec's wrist.

"Are you okay?" Alec asked. 

"I am now," Bill replied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Bill managed a smile, but it didn't feel genuine. He felt suddenly drained and tired. Alec must have sensed it.

"Let's go back to bed, eh?" he said. "It's still early."

"Okay," Bill agreed.

He grabbed his crutches and let Alec lead him back to the living room. He laid down on the couch first, then beckoned Bill to him. The doctor set his crutches aside and joined his husband, cuddling against his chest, stroking the new scar there. He pulled the blanket back over them, and they laid in silence for several minutes, Alec petting Bill's hair, Bill tracing circles on Alec's skin. Finally, Alec broke the silence first.

"What happened?" he asked carefully. 

"The pain woke me up," Bill answered. "I went into the kitchen for my meds, and started thinking. I thought about how long until my legs heal. About when or if my hands will ever stop shaking. About Owens. That's what triggered it. I keep thinking about him, and sometimes I still feel like the knife is still in my leg."

"I'm sorry," Alec said. "I wish I could do more to help you."

"You're helping by listening," Bill replied, raising his head to look into Alec's face. "And you've been helping by putting up with me." He licked his lips. "I know I haven't be easy to deal with lately."

"It's okay," Alec said. "I understand." He paused. "This is the first attack you've had since the sentencing though. That was three days ago. Is that a good sign?"

"I think so," Bill mused. "I think that as I heal physically, I'll heal emotionally as well."

"I'll be there to help you heal," Alec promised. "Every step of the way. Like you always have for me." He smiled, stroking Bill's cheek, his jaw. "I love you, Bill."

Bill grinned, and this time it was genuine. He leaned forward and kissed Alec on the lips.

"I love you, Alec," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

Alec watched Bill's face's closely, looking for any sign of discomfort. He had his husband's right leg in his lap and was massaging the scar there gently but firmly, feeling how tense the muscle under the skin was. The stitches had finally dissolved and the gauze removed at the hospital, but Bill still experienced pain and stiffness in the area, as the repaired tendons and ligaments were still healing. Massages and heat were paramount in easing the discomfort. Alec looked down at Bill's leg, the scar there. It was a good five or seven inches long, and kind of jagged. 

"The scar will fade overtime," Dr. Cassidy had told Bill at the hospital after removing the gauze. "And the pain will go away as the muscle heals itself."

Bill hadn't and still didn't seem convinced about that part. He still couldn't walk very well, but still continued his physical therapy regiment every morning. The massage was part of the regiment, and Alec hoped he was doing it right. The last thing he wanted to do was add to Bill's pain. He had already been through so much. Alec himself was doing better as well. His new pacemaker was functioning well and his arrhythmia hadn't returned. He was eating and sleeping better again, now that he had his husband back. Well, perhaps back was a strong word. Bill might have been healing physically, but mentally? That was a different story. 

"Bill has been through an incredibly severe trauma," Dr. Cassidy had told Alec privately in the hallway. "Mental wounds tend to take longer to heal than physical ones."

Alec knew that, but that didn't stop him from being concerned. Bill had already had a couple of panic attacks at the house, even though it had now been a week since Owens' sentencing and Collin's death. He wasn't sleeping well either. Alec only knew that because they had been sleeping on the couch together since their discharge, and Bill would always cuddle against his chest, but not to sleep. When he did sleep, he often awoke having a nightmare or another panic attack. 

"I think he's suffering from some kind of PTSD," Alec had confided in Miller one day over the phone. "He's showing a lot of the classic signs, and I don't know what to do." He sighed. "I don't know how else to help him."

"You just have to be patient with him, Hardy," Miller had replied. "And maybe, just maybe, you could convince him to see a therapist or something. Talking about trauma usually helps people like him."

Alec did actually consider that, but he knew Bill too well. He would never speak to a therapist. He hadn't even liked being treated by other doctors. How would he react to being psychoanalyzed? Not very well, considering his temper.

"You're thinking to loud," Bill mumbled, one arm draped over his eyes, the other on his chest, his head resting on the arm of the couch.

"Sorry," Alec said, keeping up his massaging. "Got a lot on my mind."

Bill peeked out from under his arm curiously. "Anything you'd care to share?"

Alec bit his bottom lip and stopped massaging Bill's leg. The other man sat up on his elbows, brows raised questioningly.

"Would you consider....seeing a therapist?" Alec asked slowly, rubbing his neck. "I think it might help you to talk to a professional about what happened, and about your panic attacks."

Bill's reaction was instant. His face darkened and he snorted, swinging his leg to the floor and turning away from Alec.

"I don't need to speak to anyone," he said. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not, love," Alec replied, quietly. "You're not sleeping, and your panic attacks are getting worse." He paused for a second, then pressed on. "I think you might have PTSD."

Bill scoffed, shaking his head. "Who are you to diagnose me?"

"I'm not diagnosing you, Bill," Alec said. "I'm just worried about you. You went through Hell while you were kidnapped and I think that..."

Bill held up a hand. "Stop it."

Alec refused and continued. "PTSD can be managed. I know you know that. If you would just..."

"I said, stop it!" Bill snapped, whipping around to face Alec, his eyes bright with anger. "Just stop it, alright? Talking isn't going to make those memories go away! It's going to make them worse! I don't want to think about what happened anymore, okay? I would've have expected more sympathy from you, Alec. I mean, after Sandbrook and your wife, you didn't speak to anyone, did you?"

Alec wasn't sure how to respond to that. That had a struck a nerve. He got up from the couch quickly and moved toward the stairs. Bill's face crumpled with regret.

"Alec, I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I-I didn't mean to bring that up, I-I just."

Alec vanished upstairs and retreated to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, knowing that Bill couldn't follow. He sat down on the bed, feeling a whirl emotions swirling through him-anger, frustration, sadness, guilt. He felt helpless. feeling like he was watching Bill fall apart at the seams and he couldn't do anything to help him. Alec put his head in his hands, messing up his hair, forcing down the lump in his throat. 

"Alec?" Bill called out hesitantly. 

Alec didn't answer. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He laid back on the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He heard faint noises downstairs that grew steadily louder. There was a soft knock at the bedroom door. 

"Alec?" Bill asked, quietly from the other side.

The older man perked up on the bed. Bill was upstairs? Alec got up from the bed and opened the door, his mouth falling open in shock, his eyes widening. Bill stood in the hallway, looking winded and regretful, one hand pressed against his leg. He didn't have his crutches or any other sort of support. 

"Bill, you're upstairs," Alec said, awed. "You're walking."

Bill blinked and looked down, like he was just noticing the fact. 

"I am," he whispered. He looked back up at Alec. "I guess I had a reason to." He sighed. "I'm sorry for what just happened, love. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I've just been so..."

"Stressed," Alec said. "Angry. Tired. In pain."

"Yeah, all those things," Bill agreed. "And I took it out on you and that's unfair. You've been doing so much for me despite what a pain in the ass I've been."

Alec pulled Bill into a hug, holding him tight as he could. Bill wound his arms around Alec's waist, holding him close.

"We're gonna be okay, Bill," Alec whispered. "You're gonna be okay. You'll see, love. Everything's gonna be okay."

"I love you," Bill whispered.

Alec kissed his husband's forehead and stroked his cheek. "I love you too."

They hugged again, both of them knowing that they had already crossed one bridge. Bill could walk again. He was healing.


	19. Chapter 19

Bill shifted anxiously in the worn leather armchair, rubbing the scar on his leg through his pants. The office was silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner and the gurgling of a luminescent fish tank on the wall. Across from him sat Dr. Jessica Landon, a psychiatrist and trauma counselor at the Broadchurch hospital. She wore a grey business suit, her hair tied back in a neat bun, and eyed Bill critically behind her horn-rimmed eyeglasses. 

"Why are you here today, Bill?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Because I told my husband I'd come here," Bill replied. "I told him I'd talk to you."

"Does that mean you don't intend to talk to me?" Dr. Landon asked, arching her eyebrow.

"Nothing to talk about." Bill ran a hand through his hair, looking around, feeling a mouse that was cornered by a hungry cat. He glanced at the clock. It was only noon, and his session was supposed to last an hour. But what was he supposed to tell Dr. Landon what she didn't already know or read in his file?

"You're wrong, Bill," Dr. Landon said. "There are things to talk about. You just want to avoid them."

"Surely I'm not your first client who refuses to talk about their trauma," Bill replied. 

"They opened up eventually."

Bill licked his dry lips. "You already know what happened to me, why I'm here. Why should I explain it?"

"I want to hear you say it," Dr. Landon replied, adjusting her glasses. "Say aloud what happened to you and how you feel."

Bill rolled his eyes. He rubbed his leg more, already feeling an ache beginning to pulse through it. "I was kidnapped, tortured, and almost killed by two men named Collin and Owens. I managed to escape their torment and get back to my husband, Alec."

"How were you tortured?" Dr. Landon asked, already jotting notes down.

"Collin tied me to a pipe in a basement and starved me and refused to give me any water," Bill said, his heart racing a little. "The pipe I was tied to would occasionally become very hot because of the water flow, and it severely burned my hands and wrists. His accessory, Owens, stabbed me in the right leg with a hunting knife before I escaped. They both showed me pictures of Alec, how he was slowly falling apart in my absence."

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he cleared his throat. His eyes burned with tears that he quickly forced down. His heart was pounding, and he took a few deep breaths to relax himself. Dr. Landon pushed an empty cup and a pitcher of iced lemon water across the table toward him. Bill poured himself some, his hand shaking slightly. The cool liquid helped calm him, and he sighed, running his hand over his hair and down his face.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Landon asked.

Bill shook his head. "Can we move on to something else? Maybe something less anxiety-provoking?"

"Alright," Dr. Landon agreed. "Your injures. How are they?"

Bill sighed and rubbed his leg. "My leg has a scar, and it still hurts, but it's healing. My hands are healed, but they still shake." He licked his lips, the pain in his leg intense, like he was being stabbed again. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why?" Dr. Landon asked. 

"Because talking about it makes my leg hurt and my hands shake more," Bill snapped. "I hate talking about this!"

He put his head in both hands, breathing heavily, like he'd been running. Why did he agree to this? Why was he talking to a stranger about this instead of Alec, who was waiting outside for him, who had coaxed him to coming here in the first place?

"Why don't you want to talk to Alec about this?" Dr. Landon asked, as if reading his thoughts. 

Bill looked up at her in shock. She twirled her pen between her fingers. 

"Most people who go through trauma like you did would usually prefer to talk to a family member or spouse," she continued. "But why not you? Why would you talk to me but not Alec, who loves you unconditionally, who has been with you through your injury recovery?"

"Alec has enough nightmares and feels guilty enough about what happened," Bill answered. "Telling him would cause him pain he doesn't need." 

"I don't think that's it, Bill," Dr. Landon said. "I think you are afraid to be vulnerable, not just with him, but with anyone. Am I right? That's one of reasons Libby and Virginia were frustrated with you."

Bill froze at hearing those names. It was true that even with them he'd hadn't been willing to let his walls down that much, despite everything they all went through. And Alec.....They had both been through Hell and back. 

'Then why am I still afraid of vulnerability?' Bill thought to himself. 

He looked at Dr. Landon questioningly. She seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Vulnerability can be scary for lots of people, Bill," she explained. "Especially when they have walls put around them. They use those as a shield to prevent pain, but sometimes they cause pain too. You want to be open with someone, but at the same time you're too afraid of getting hurt or looking weak to them."

Bill licked his lips again. He thought back to all the times during his and Alec's early relationship. He'd tried to hide sickness from Alec, hide his emotions. But, somehow, the Scotsman was able to break down Bill's carefully constructed walls and let light in. He never judged or berated Bill for his weakness, but Bill still didn't like appearing so in front of him. Alec had been the same way at first, but not anymore. Bill realized what kind of seeds he was planting if he continued this.

"What if I lose him somehow?" he asked Dr. Landon. "What if I can never bring myself to be truly open with him and he resents me, then leaves me?" He wrung his shaking hands. "I don't think I could handle that."

"You'll learn, Bill," Dr. Landon answered. "And think about it. Has Alec ever done anything that would make you think you couldn't be honest and open with him?"

"No," Bill replied. "Not since we were married has he kept anything from me. We tell each other everything."

"Well, then," Dr. Landon said. "In that case, it seems like it shouldn't be me you're talking to."

Bill nodded and looked at the fish tank. He watched the colorful fish inside it swim around, darting in and out of sight, before he turned back.

"I'm scared," he admitted.

Dr. Landon smiled. "I know you are. But there is nothing to fear but fear itself, Dr. Masters."

Bill nodded as the grandfather clock chimed, signaling that his hour was up. 

"Thank you, Dr. Landon," he said, standing up without help. "I don't know if I'll come back, but I'll keep your number."

"You're welcome, Bill," she replied with a smile. "Good luck with everything."

Bill left her office and went out into the lobby, where Alec was waiting, fiddling with his phone. He looked up when Bill approached and smiled, standing up to meet him. 

"Hey," he said. "How'd it go?"

"Well, I think," Bill replied. "But I don't think I'll come back."

"Why?" Alec asked, arching an eyebrow.

Bill stroked his husband's cheek gently, then took his hand. "Because I'd rather talk   
to you."

Alec smiled again, but it faltered a little. "Bill, I'm not a professional. I don't think I'm the right person to talk to."

Bill silenced his husband's rambling with a kiss. When they pulled apart, Bill grinned.

"I don't need a professional," he said. "I just need my husband."

Alec's answering grin warmed Bill to his core, vanishing the pain in his leg and the shaking in his hands.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and supporting this fic! It means the world to me!

Alec watched Bill sleep. He looked peaceful for the first time in weeks. He’d just spent the last hour telling Alec everything that had happened to him while he was with Collin and Owens.

“At first Collin said he didn’t want to hurt me,” Bill explained. “He only wanted to hurt you, as revenge for putting him in jail and losing his family. That’s why he kidnapped me. He kept me tied to this pipe in some kind of basement. Sometimes water would run through the pipe, and it would get really hot. That’s what caused the burns on my hands.”

He held his hands out, palms up. Alec took one gently in his, stroking the scarred skin. There were still some shiny blisters that had yet to fade, and they still shook because of the nerve damage. Alec pressed kisses to Bill’s knuckles, looking into his eyes. Bill smiled at him, but it faltered.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Alec asked.

Bill nodded, rubbing his leg. “At one point, I lost my temper and smashed my head into Collin’s nose. I broke it, and I guess that’s when he changed his mind about hurting me. He thought it would also hurt me if I saw what was happening to you. He paid Owens to take pictures of you, to show me how much you were hurting. That killed me more than anything, seeing you in pain.”

Alec’s lips curled into a scowl when he heard Owens’ name. He stroked Bill’s hand, encouraging him to continue. Bill swallowed and licked his lips. 

“Once you were fired from the precinct, Owens and Collin decided it was time to kill me. They wanted to leave me on the beach where Danny Latimer was found. Once we got there, I fought. I refused to be taken away from you. I was close to escaping when Owens stabbed in the leg with his knife. I knocked him out and took their car. I drove to a gas station and stole some supplies to fix myself up. I pulled the knife out, stitched up the wound, and drove back here. Ellie found me there and thought I was an intruder. When she realized it was me, she drove me straight to the hospital where you were.”

“Jesus,” Alec breathed. “I had no idea you were such a fighter.”

“Neither did I,” Bill replied. “But that’s what happens when you love someone, right? You do anything for them, anything to get back to them.”

Alec smiled and kissed Bill soundly on the mouth. After that, Bill took his pain meds and went upstairs to the bedroom, where he fell asleep almost instantly. He was walking better, and the pain was lessening everyday. Alec sat on the bed, watching his husband sleep. He knew how hard that must’ve been for Bill to talk about, but Alec was glad he did. It was an important part of Bill’s recovery to talk about what happened. 

‘He’s a lot tougher than I realized,’ Alec thought to himself.  


He laid down beside Bill, propping himself up on his elbow, watching him, listening to his even breathing. Suddenly, Bill’s eyes flickered open, and he smiled at Alec, who grinned back.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Bill replied. “Thank you for listening to me earlier.”

“You’re welcome,” Alec said, reaching over and stroking Bill’s cheek, his jaw.

The doctor leaned into the touch before shuffling closer and kissing Alec on the lips. The Scotsman sighed into the kiss, cupping the back of Bill’s head. Bill’s tongue touched the seam of Alec’s lips, asking for entry that he quickly granted. The kiss deepened, turning hungry and passionate. Bill pushed Alec onto his back and straddled his waist, his legs on either side of his husband’s hips.

“W-wait,” Alec gasped, pulling his lips away from Bill’s. The doctor whined and tried to catch him, but Alec put a hand against his chest. “Your leg. Is it hurting?”

Bill looked down at his leg and back up at Alec, his blue eyes dark with lust. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Alec asked. “I think we should-” Bill cut him off with another kiss.

“Don’t think,” he whispered. “Just touch me.”

Alec shivered at the need in his husband’s voice. He kissed Bill again before pulling his T-shirt over his head, then ran his hands across Bill’s torso. Bill moaned as Alec’s hand roamed his chest, rolling his nipples with his fingertips. Alec took one into his mouth, whorling his tongue around the bud until it peaked. 

“Alec,” Bill gasped. 

He laced a hand through his husband’s hair and pulled him up into a messy kiss. Alec fumbled to unbutton his shirt without taking his lips off Bill’s. But the other man grew suddenly impatient and simply ripped Alec’s shirt open, buttons flying across the bedroom. 

“Fuck,” Alec growled.

He tossed his shirt to the floor and reached down toward the fastenings of his jeans. Bill slapped his hands away, though, before kissing him again roughly and undoing them himself. Once Alec was down to his underwear, he rolled them and pinned Bill on his back, deftly removing the other man’s tented boxers. Bill’s erection was red and leaking furiously, his eyes burning with desire and lust. Alec licked his lips and leaned down, licking across the scar on Bill’s leg with the tip of his tongue.  


“Alec,” Bill whined. “Please I need you.”

“You have me,” Alec promised, kissing the tip of his cock. “You’ve always had me.”

He took Bill into his mouth, and the doctor moaned loudly, gripping Alec’s hair tightly. Alec moaned at the pleasure and pain, swirling his tongue around Bill’s shaft. After another few minutes, punctuated by Bill’s gasps and moans of pleasure, he pulled Alec off his cock and stared into his eyes.

“Fuck me, Alec,” Bill breathed. “Please.”

Alec’s erection twitched, leaking fluid in his briefs. He’d never actually topped Bill before. In truth he didn’t mind being the bottom. He loved being taken apart. He swallowed a little and touched Bill’s face.

“Are you sure?” Alec asked. “We’ve never done it that way before.”

“I’m more than sure,” Bill replied. “I want you inside me, Alec.”

Alec nodded. “Okay.”

He kissed Bill again and grabbed the lube off the nightstand. He settled between Bill’s legs and coated his fingers in lube. He knew that Bill had never done this before, so he stroked Bill’s leg gently.

“Let me know if it’s too much and I’ll stop, okay?” Alec said quietly.

Bill nodded. Alec slowly pressed one finger against Bill’s hole. The doctor inhaled sharply and tensed up, fisting the bedding in his hands. Alec kissed his inner thighs soothingly.

“Relax, love, relax,” he whispered. 

Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He relaxed again, allowing Alec to push further in. He added a second finger, scissoring them. He brushed across Bill’s prostate, and the doctor keened, the sound going straight to Alec’s cock, making him impossibly harder. He added a third digit, watching Bill’s cock leak a puddle onto his stomach. 

“Alec, please,” he said. “I want you inside me.”

Alec pulled his fingers free from Bill’s entrance, then removed his underwear. He slicked himself up, hissing at the cold, then got between Bill’s legs again, lining himself up. Bill wound his arms around Alec’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulder blades. Alec kissed him as he slowly pressed into Bill’s relaxed hole. It took every ounce of his willpower not to just come right there. Bill was so warm and wet and tight, and he made the neediest sound against their lips as Alec bottomed out. Once Alec was fully sheathed, he let out a breath and looked into Bill’s eyes. They were so dark, a thin ring of blue in a disc of black. 

“Are you okay?” Alec asked.

“Yes,” Bill answered. “Move, please.”

Alec nodded and started with a slow rhythm. Bill growled and wrapped his legs around Alec’s waist, pulling him closer.

“I won’t break,” he said. “Take me. Hard.”

Alec’s remaining control snapped at that. Kissing Bill sloppily, he began to fuck deeply into him, nailing his prostate. Bill’s moans were loud, his nails scratching down Alec’s back. Between kisses, they spoke to each other.

“I missed you so much.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’ll never lose me again.”

“I love you so much.”

Bill came with a loud cry, eyes rolling back into his head, nails leaving gouges in Alec’s flesh, his cock spurting up between their bellies. Alec moaned loudly at the sight and the sensation of Bill tightening around him. He came and bit down on Bill’s neck, leaving a dark hickey as he filled his husband fully and deeply. He collapsed onto Bill, panting, their skin slick with sweat and seed. Bill stroked his back, tracing the scratches there.

“Are you alright?” Alec asked, raising his head to look into his husband’s eyes. 

Bill stroked Alec’s cheek, a faint smile on his reddened lips. “I’m better than alright.”

Alec smiled too and slowly pulled out. Bill whined a little at the loss, and Alec kissed him again. He left the room and returned with a wet cloth. He wiped down Bill’s belly and thighs tenderly, then laid down beside him, pulling him against his chest.

“I love you,” Bill said, his voice quiet.

“I love you too,” Alec replied. “More than anything.”

He pressed his lips to Bill’s forehead, stroking his hair. “We’re gonna be okay, love.”

"Yeah, we are," Bill agreed, closing his eyes and snuggling closer.


End file.
